Y 


MURPHY  * MV 


THOMAS  MOORE. 


IRELAND  b«0H- 


EMBRACING 

MOORE’S  IRISH  MELODIES,  THE  POEMS  OF  CLARENCE  MANGAN,  THE  SONGS  OF 
SAMUEL  LOVER,  THE  PATRIOTIC  POEMS  OF  DAVIS,  LEVER’S  MILITARY  SONGS, 

THE  POEMS  OF  BANIM,  FERGUSON,  ALLINGHAM,  D.  F.  M’CARTHY, 

FATHER  PROUT,  CALLANAN,  GOLDSMITH,  GRIFFIN,  ANSTER, 

WOLF,  AND  NUNAN. 

WITH 

THE  MOST  BRILLIANT  AND  STIRRING  SPEECHES  OF  EDMUND  BURKE,  HENRY 
GRATTAN,  JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN,  RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN,  ROBERT 
EMMET,  CHARLES  PHILLIPS,  RICHARD  LALOR  SHEIL,  DANIEL 
O’CONNELL,  REV.  DR.  CAHILL,  THOM  AS  FRANCIS  M EAGIIER, 

THOMAS  DARCY  m’GEE,  ARCHBISHOP  M’HALE, 

FATHER  BURKE,  REV.  M.  B.  BUCKLEY, 

MICHAEL  DAVITT,  A.  M.  SUL- 
LIVAN, ETC. 

COMPILED  BY 

t.  rr.  mcc^lRtht. 

EMBELLISHED  WITH  A FUEL  SET  OF  PORTRAITS , ENGRAVED  EXPRESSLY  FOR  THIS  WORK. 


NEW  YORK: 

MSEF  M.  ¥ Me  € AlitEL  ¥a 

PUBLISHERS. 


BOSTON  COT/LFGK  LXRRAKY 
CHLSTiN  UT  HILL,  MASS, 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/poetryoratoryofiOOmcca 


Pi  \ '£-■  3 


Preface  

Pocnt’s;  ^Ulodwsi. 

Go  where  glory  waits  thee 

War  song.  Remember  the  glories  of  Brian 

the  brave 

Erin,  the  tear  and  the  smile  in  thine  eyes 

Oh  ! breathe  not  his  name 

When  he  who  adores  thee 

The  harp  that  once  through  Tara's  halls  . 

Oh  think  not  my  spirits  are  always  as  light 

Fly  not  yet  ...... 

Though  the  last  glimpse  of  Erin  with  sor- 
row I see  . . . . • 

The  meeting  of  the  waters 
Rich  and  rare  were  the  gems  she  wore 
As  a beam  o’er  the  face  of  the  waters  may 

glow 

St.  Senanus  and  the  lady 

How  dear  to  me  the  hour  . , 

Take  back  the  virgin  page  . 

The  legacy  ..... 

How  oft  has  the  banshee  cried? 

We  may  roam  through  this  world 

Eveleen’s  bower 

The  song  of  Fionnuala 

Let  Erin  remember  the  days  of  old  . 

Come  send  round  the  wine 
Sublime  was  the  warning 
Believe  me,  if  all  those  endearing  young 
charms  ..... 

Erin  ! O Erin!  ...... 

Drink  to  her  ..... 

Oh,  blame  not  the  bard  .... 

While  gazing  on  the  moon’s  light 
111  omens  ...... 

Before  the  battle  ..... 

After  the  battle 


Page. 

vi 


o 

5 

6 
6 
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7 

7 

8 
8 
9 
9 
9 

10 

10 

11 

11 

12 

12 

13 

13 


Oh,  ’tis  sweet  to  think 

The  Irish  peasant  to  his  mistress  . 

On  music  ..... 

The  origin  of  the  harp 

It  is  not  the  tear  at  this  moment  shed 

Love’s  young  dream 

I saw  thy  form  in  youthful  prime 

The  prince’s  day  .... 

Lesbia  hath  a beaming  eye 

Weep  on,  weep  on 

By  that  lake,  whose  gloomy  shore 

She  is  far  from  the  land 

Nay,  tell  me  not  .... 

Avenging  and  bright  . 

Love  and  the  novice 
What  the  bee  is  to  the  floweret 
This  life  is  all  checker’d  with  pleasures 
woes  ...... 

0!  the  shamrock 

At  the  mid-hour  of  night  . 

One  bumper  at  parting 

’Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer 

The  young  May  moon 

The  minstrel  boy  .... 

The  song  of  O’Ruark  . 

Oh,  had  we  some  bright  little  isle  of 
own  ...... 

Farewell  ! but  whenever  you  welcome 
hour  ..... 

You  remember  Ellen 
Oh,  doubt  me  not 
I’d  mourn  the  hopes 
Come  o’er  the  sea 

Has  sorrow  thy  young  days  shaded?  . 
No,  not  more  welcome 
When  first  I met  thee 
While  history’s  muse  . 

The  time  I’ve  lost  in  wooing 


and 


our 


the 


Page. 
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14 
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15 
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. 1G 

17 
. 17 

18 

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19 
. 19 

20 

. 20 
20 

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24 

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25 
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26 
26 
26 
27 

27 

28 
28 
29 


43 


ii. 

a 
o 
1 ^ 

r E N T s . 

Page- 

Page. 

Where’s  the  slave 

20 

Lament  for  Banba  . . . . . 

65 

’Tis  gone  and  forever 

20 

Ellen  Bawn  ..... 

66 

I saw  from  the)  beach  . 

BO 

Love  ballad  ...... 

66 

Come,  rest  in  this  bosom  . 

30 

The  vision  of  Conor  O’Sullivan 

67 

Fill  the  bumper  fair 

. 

31 

Patrick  Condon’s  vision  . . . . 

68 

Dear  harp  of  my  country  . 

31 

Sighile  Ni  Gara 

60 

Remember  thee  . . ■ 

32 

St.  Patrick’s  hymn  before  Tara 

70 

Oh,  for  the  swords  of  former  time! 

32 

Twenty  golden  years  ago 

72 

Wreath  the  bowl 

32 

The  parallel  .... 

33 

•^ocms  of  Samuel  %Lmv. 

Oh,  ye  dead  ..... 

34 

O’Donohue’s  mistress 

34 

The  angel’s  whisper  . 

74 

Shall  the  harp  then  be  silent? 

35 

The  fairy  boy  ..... 

74 

Oh,  the  sight  entrancing  . 

30 

True  love  can  ne’er  forget 

75 

Sweet  Innisfallen 

36 

Nymph  of  Niagara  .... 

7o 

’Twas  one  of  those  dreams 

37 

How  to  ask  and  have  .... 

76 

Fairest,  put  on  awhile  . 

37 

The  land  of  the  west  .... 

76 

As  vanquished  Erin  . 

38 

Sweet  harp  of  the  days  that  are  gone 

77 

Desmond's  song  .... 

38 

Yield  not,  thou  sad  one,  to  sighs 

77 

I wish  I was  by  that  dim  lake  . 

30 

Widow  Machree  ..... 

lyry 

i i 

Song  of  Innisfail 

30 

Molly  Bawn 

78 

Oh,  Arranmore,  loved  Arranmore 

30 

Mother,  he’s  going  away  .... 

70 

Lay  his  sword  by  his  side 

40 

The  Quaker’s  meeting  .... 

79 

The  wine-cup  is  circling  . 

40 

Native  music  ...... 

81 

Oh ! could  we  do  with  this  world  of  ours 

41 

The  charm  ..... 

81 

The  dream  of  those  days 

41 

The  four-leaved  shamrock 

81 

Silence  is  in  our  festal  halls 

41 

Oh!  watch  you  well  by  day-light 

82 

Rory  O’More ; or  good  omens  . 

82 

yorms  of  Alamos  (tftavonco  Pamtan. 

The  blarney  ..... 

83 

The  chain  of  gold  ..... 

83 

Dark  Rosaleen  .... 

Give  me  my  arrows  and  give  me  my  bow 

84 

Shane  Bwee ; or  the  captivity  of  the 

Gaels 

44 

The  hour  before  day  .... 

84 

A lamentation 

45 

Macarthy’s  grave  ..... 

85 

Sarsfield  ..... 

46 

St.  Kevin  . . .... 

85 

Lament  over  the  ruins  of  the  Abbey  of  Teach 

The  Indian  summer  .... 

86 

Molaga  .... 

. 

47 

The  war-ship  of  peace 

86 

The  dawning  of  the  day 

• 

49 

An  honest  heart  to  guide  us 

86 

The  dream  of  John  MacDonnell 

50 

The  birth  of  St.  Patrick 

87 

The  sorrows  of  Innisfail 

51 

The  Arab 

87 

The  testament  of  Cathaeir  Mor  . 

51 

Fag-an-bealach  ..... 

88 

Rury  and  Darvorgilla  . 

54 

The  bridge  of  sighs  .... 

88 

The  expedition  and  death  of  King 

Dathy 

57 

The  child  and  autumn  leaf  . 

89 

Prince  Aldfrid’s  itinerary  through  Ireland 

58 

Forgive,  but  don’t  forget  .... 

89 

Kinkora  ..... 

59 

The  girl  I left  behind  me 

89 

Lament  for  the  princes  of  Tyrone  and  Tyr- 

I can  ne’er  forget  thee  .... 

90 

connell  .... 

60 

Love  and  home  and  native  land  . 

90 

O’Hussey’s  ode  to  the  Maguire 

62 

Memory  and  hope  ..... 

90 

Kathaleen  Ny-Houlakan  . 

64 

Molly  Carew 

91 

Welcome  to  the  prince 

64 

My  dark -haired  girl  .... 

92 

1 

CONTENTS. 

iii. 

Page 

Page. 

Norah’s  lament  ..... 

92 

Fontenoy  

131 

The  silent  farewell  . 

92 

The  Dungannon  convention 

133 

What  will  you  do,  love? 

92 

Song  of  the  volunteers  of  1782 

134 

The  men  of  ’eiglity-two 

134 

of  Itooroag 

Native  swords  ..... 

135 

Tone’s  grave  .... 

136 

The  men  of  Tipperary 

94 

Nationality  ...... 

137 

The  rivers  ..... 

95 

Self-reliance 

137 

Glengariff  ...... 

95 

Sweet  and  sad 

138 

The  West’s  asleep  .... 

96 

The  burial  ..... 

139 

Oh  ! for  a steed  . . . . . 

97 

We  must  not  fail 

140 

Cymric  rule  and  Cymric  rulers 

97 

O’Connell’s  statue 

141 

A ballad  of  freedom  .... 

98 

The  green  above  the  red 

142 

The  Irish  hurrah  .... 

. 99 

The  vow  of  Tipperary  . 

143 

A song-  for  the  Irish  militia 

100 

A scene  in  the  south  .... 

143 

Our  own  again  .... 

101 

William  Tell  and  the  genius  of  Switzerland 

144 

Celts  and  Saxons  ...... 

101 

The  exile  ..... 

145 

Orange  and  green  will  carry  the  day 

102 

My  home  ...... 

146 

The  lost  path  ...... 

103 

Marie  Nangle,  or  the  seven  sisters  of  Navan 

148 

Hope-  deferred  ..... 

104 

My  grave  ..... 

149 

Eibhlin  a ruin  . . . . . 

104 

Duty  and  love  ..... 

105 

iom$  of  (Klmlos;  lam*#  W,mv. 

Blind  Mary 

105 

The  bride  of  Mallow  .... 

105 

Bad  luck  to  this  marching 

150 

The  welcome  . 

106 

It’s  little  for  glory  I care 

150 

Maire  bhan  a stoir  .... 

107 

Larry  M’Hale  ...... 

151 

Oh  ! the  marriage  .... 

107 

Mary  Draper  ...... 

151 

The  boatman  of  Kinsale 

108 

Now  can’t  you  be  aisy  ? . . . . 

152 

Fate  of  King  Dathi 

108 

Oh  ! once  we  were  illigant  people 

153 

Argan  Mor  ..... 

110 

Potteen,  good  luck  to  ye,  dear 

153 

The  victor’s  burial  . 

110 

The  bivouac  ..... 

153 

The  true  Irish  king  .... 

111 

The  girls  of  the  west  . 

154 

The  Geraldines 

112 

The  Irish  dragoon  .... 

154 

O’Brien  of  Ara  ..... 

114 

The  man  for  Galway  . . . . 

155 

Emmeline  Talbot  ..... 

115 

The  Pope  he  leads  a happy  life 

155 

O’Sullivan’s  returu  .... 

117 

The  pickets  are  fast  retreating,  boys  . 

156 

The  fate  of  the  O’Sullivans 

The  sack  of  Baltimore 

Lament  for  the  death  of  Eoghan  Ruadh 

118 

120 

Widow  Malone  ..... 

looms  of  Holm  §mum. 

156 

O’Neill 

121 

Ailleen  ..... 

157 

A rally  for  Ireland  .... 

122 

Soggarth  Aroon  ..... 

157 

The  battle  of  Limerick  .... 

124 

The  fetch  ..... 

158 

The  penal  days  ..... 

125 

The  Irish  maiden’s  song 

159 

The  death  of  Sarsfield  .... 

126 

The  reconciliation 

159 

The  surprise  of  Cremona  . 

The  flower  of  Finae  ..... 

126 

128 

looms  of  Jttmuof  Joogoosott. 

Clare’s  dragoons  ..... 

129 

Deirdra’s  farewell  to  Alba 

160 

When  the  south  winds  blow 

130 

Deirdra’s  lament  for  the  sons  of  Usnach 

160 

The  battle  eve  of  the  brigade 

130 

The  downfall  of  the  Gael 

161 

C 0 N T 


Pace. 

O’Byrne’s  bard  to  the  clans  of  Wicklow  1G2 
Lament  over  the  ruins  of  the  Abbey  of 

Timoleague  . . . . . 163 

To  the  Harper  O’Connellan  . . .104 

Grace  Nugent  . * . . .104 

Mild  Mable  Kelly 105 

The  cup  of  O’Hara  ....  105 

The  fair-hair’d  girl  . . . . .105 

Pastheen  fin  . . . . .100 

Molly  Astore  . . . . . .167 

Cashel  of  Munster  ....  167 

The  coolun  ......  167 

Youghall  harbor  .....  168 

Cean  dubli  deelish  . . . . .160 

Boatman’s  hymn  . . . . . 169 

The  dear  old  air 169 

The  lapful  of  nuts  ....  170 

Mary’s  waking  . . . . .170 

Hopeless  love  .....  170 

The  fair  hills  of  Ireland  ....  171 
Torna’s  lament  for  Core  and  Niall  . 171 

Una  Phelimy 112 


genus  of  William  ^Uingftam. 


The  winding  banks  of  Erne  . . . 174 

The  Abbot  of  Innisfallen  ....  176 
Abbey  ASaroe  .....  177 

genus  ef  gnus  |lorrucr  gldCartlut, 

The  pillar  towers  of  Ireland  . . .179 

The  lay  missioner  ....  180 

Summer  longings  . . . . .182 

A lament  . . . . . . 182 

The  clan  of  MacCaura  ....  184 

Devotion 186 

Over  the  sea  . . . . . .187 

Home  preference  . . . . . 188 

The  fireside  . . . . . .188 

The  vale  of  Shanganah . . . . 189 

The  window  . . . . . .190 

Advance  . . . . . . 191 

The  emigrants  . . . . .192 

To  Ethna 194 

Wings  for  home  . . . . .195 

To  an  infant.  .....  195 

Home-sickness  . . . . . 19G 


E N T S . 


Pack. 

Youth  and  age 

197 

Sunny  days  in  winter 

. 197 

Duty 

197 

Order  .... 

. 197 

The  first  of  the  angels  . 

198 

Spirit  voices 

. 199 

Truth  in  song 

200 

All  fool’s  day  . 

. 201 

The  birth  of  the  spring 

202 

goems  of  .frauds 

glaltony. 

Vert- vert,  the  parrot 

. 204 

The  silk-worm 

211 

The  Shandon  bells  . 

. 219 

The  red-breast  of  Aquitania  . 

220 

L’Envoy  to  W.  H.  Ainsworth,  Esq.  222 

The  legend  of  Arethusa 

. 222 

The  ladye  of  Lee 

223 

Life,  a bubble 

. 223 

Jack  Bellew’s  song 

224 

Friar  O’Meara’s  song 

224 

Terry  Callaghan’s  song . 

225 

Lament  of  Stella 

. 220 

Epitaph  on  Father  Prout 

. 220 

The  attractions  of  a fashionable  Irish  water- 

ing-place  .....  227  ■ 

From  Gresset’s  farewell  to  the  Jesuits  . 227 
Don  Ignacio  Loyola’s  vigil  . . 228 

Song  of  the  Cossack  ....  228 

Popular  recollections  of  Bonaparte  . 229 

Address  to  the  vanguard  of  the  French  . 230 
Ode  on  the  defeat  of  Sultan  Osman  . 231 

Ode  on  the  taking  of  Calais  . . . 233 

Michael  Angelo’s  farewell  to  sculpture  . 234 

The  song  of  Brennus  ....  235 

Wine  debtor  to  water  ....  235 

Popular  ballad  on  the  battle  of  Lepanto  . 236 
The  three-colored  flag  . . . 237 

Malbrouck  ......  238 

The  obsequies  of  David  the  painter  . . 238 

To  prostrate  Italy  ...  . 269 

Ode  to  the  statue  of  Moses  . . . 240 

Lines  addressed  to  the  Tiber  . . 240 

The  angel  of  poetry  . . . . 241 

Good  dry  lodgings  ....  242 

The  carrier-dove  of  Athens  . . . 243 

The  fall  of  the  leaves  . . . 244 


CONTENTS. 


v. 


gorm$  of  If.  (Jattatuin. 


The  revenge  of  Donal  Comm 
Gougane  Barra 
Dirge  of  O’Sullivan  Bear 
The  Virgin  Mary’s  bank 
The  white  cockade 
The  avenger  . 

The  lament  of  O’Gnive  . 

On  the  last  day  . 

A lay  of  mizen  head 
Lines  written  to  a young  lady 
Stanzas  to  Erin 

Lines  to  Miss  O’D . 

Lines  to  Erin 
Wellington’s  name 
The  exile’s  farewell 
Song  . 

De  la  vida  del  cielo 
To  the  star  of  Bethlehem  . 
Lines  to  the  Blessed  Sacrament 
Though  dark  fate  hath  reft  me  . 


Page. 

24.5 

. 252 
253 
. 254 
255 
. 255 
. 25G 

257 
. 257 
. 258 

258 
. 259 

. 2G0 

. 260 
2G1 
. 2G1 
261 
. 2G2 
2G2 
. 2G3 


lomsi  of  (DUm*  (Goldsmith. 


The  deserted  village 
The  traveller 
The  hermit  . 


264 

272 

280 


of  Uolm  ghilpot  ®«rait. 

Oh!  sleef»  .......  283 

The  deserter’s  lamentation  . . . 283 

The  Monks  of  the  Order  of  St.  Patrick  . 284 
The  green  spot  that  blooms  o’er  the  desert 

of  life  ......  284 

|?oom$  of  Griffin. 

The  bride  of  Malahide  ....  285 
Hark!  Hark!  the  soft  bugle  . . 287 

A soldier — a soldier  to-night  is  our  guest  287 
Aileen  Aroon  .....  288 

Know  ye  not  that  lovely  river  . . . 288 

’Tis,  it  is  the  Shannon’s  stream  . . 289 

I love  my  love  in  the  morning  . . . 289 

Orange  and  green  .....  290 

Sleep,  that  like  the  couched  dove  . .291 

Gilla  ma  chree  .....  292 

Old  times ! Old  times ! . . . . 292 

A place  in  thy  memory,  dearest  . . 293 

For  I am  desolate  . . . . 293 


The  bridal  wake  . 

Adare  ..... 

The  poet’s  prophecy 

Twilight  song  .... 

The  mother’s  lament 

You  never  bade  me  hope,  ’tis  true 

Like  the  oak  by  the  fountain 

The  phantom  city 

War!  war!  horrid  war! 

Gone!  gone!  forever  gone! 

Sonnets  . ... 

War  song  of  O’Driscol 
My  spirit  is  of  pensive  mould  . 
Impromptu  .... 
Friendship  .... 

Fame 

Written  in  Adare  in  1820 
The  wake  of  the  absent  . 

On  pulling  some  campanulas  in  a 
garden  ..... 
They  speak  of  Scotland’s  heroes  old 
O’Brazil,  the  isle  of  the  blest  . 
Lines  addressed  to  a sea-gull 
The  Sister  of  Charity 
To  memory  .... 
The  song  of  the  old  mendicant 
Would  you  choose  a friend?  . 


gomsi  of  $0ftu  gMStW. 


Page. 

294 
. 294 

295 
. 296 

296 
. 296 

297 
. 297 

297 
. 297 

298 
. 298 

299 
. 299 

299 
. 300 

300 
. 300 


lady’s 


Dirge  song  . 

The  harp  . 

The  everlasting  rose 
If  I might  choose 
Oh ! if,  as  Arabs  fancy 


301 

301 

302 

303 
303 
305 

305 

306 


307 

308 
308 

308 

309 


gocmis  of  gw.  CltarUgi  Itfolfo. 

Go,  forget  me  .....  310 

The  burial  of  Sir  John  Moore  . . 311 

The  chains  of  Spain  are  breaking  . .311 

Oh!  say  not  that  my  heart  is  cold  . . 312 

Gone  from  her  cheek  .....  312 
Oh,  my  love  has  an  eye  of  the  softest  blue  312 
If  I had  thought  thou  couldst  have  died  313 


|?om$  of  g.  g. 

Eileen  O’Donohue  .... 
The  yarn  of  Mr.  Cole  of  the  coal  quay  . 


314 

316 


“Poetry,”  said  Coleridge,  “is  the  fragrance  and  tne  blossom  of  all  human 
knowledge, — human  thoughts,  passions,  emotions,  language.”  The  poetry  of  Ire- 
land, at  least  its  lyric  poetry,  is,  it  may  be  safely  asserted,  superior  to  that  of 
other  nations  in  the  felicity  of  language,  and  variety  and  harmony  of  its  num- 
bers ; moreover,  its  character  is  distinctive  : the  national  aspiration  for  freedom, 
and  the  invocation  of  her  sons  to  break  the  thrall  of  bondage,  have  been  struck 
upon  the  harp-chord  of  Erin  by  nearly  all  her  bards,  and  serves  only  to  show  how 
fertile  are  the  resources  of  genius,  even  in  treating  of  a single  subject.  But,  not 
alone  to  this  field  is  Irish  poetry  confined.  Epic  poetry  is. well  represented  ; as  for 
example,  Moore’s  Lalla  Rookh — a gem,  pure  in  its  exquisite  word-painting, 
and  harmony  of  metre  as  the  pearl  of  that  Indian  ocean  which  is,  in  some  part, 
the  scene  of  its  tragic  story  ; and  pathos,  humor,  and  satire  have  all  had  their 
famous  exponents  in  the  gallery  of  Erin’s  poets.  Speaking  on  a kindred  topic, 
a distinguished  divine  (Monsignor  Capel)  said  recently:  — “ The  intellect  of  Ireland 
is  a gulf-stream  in  the  ocean  of  thought.”  And  this  opinion  will  be  readily  en- 
dorsed by  all  who  read  the  poetry  of  Ireland  ; which,  even  after  centuries  of 
oppression,  breathes  the  Spartan  spirit  of  defiance  of  the  conqueror;  and,  ever  with 
the  rainbow  of  hope  in  the  sky  of  its  prophetic  future,  heralds  the  day  of  national 
independence. 

The  selections  of  verse  in  this  volume  present  a variety  of  subjects,  and  an 
array  of  celebrated  names,  which  must  command  the  attention  of  the  most  fasti- 
dious reader,  and  will  well  repay  perusal.  P.  D.  N. 


U*L°Z:£ 

Vv  mu  mi  A 


^ ^©YG)  ~ 

^sWsks 

' ' ^ 


G-0  WHERE  GLORY  WAITS 
THEE. 

Axe — Maid  of  the  Valley. 

/tfff’O  where  glory  waits  thee, 
(§§H  But  while  fame  elates  thee, 
Oh  ! still  remember  me. 

When  the  praise  thou  meetest 
To  thine  ear  is  sweetest, 

Oh  ! then  remember  me. 

Other  arms  may  press  thee, 
Dearer  friends  caress  thee, 

All  the  joys  that  bless  thee, 
Sweeter  far  may  be  ; 

But  when  friends  are  nearest, 
And  when  joys  are  dearest, 

Oh  ! then  remember  me. 

When  at  eve  thou  rovest 
By  the  star  thou  lovest, 

Oh  ! then  remember  me. 
Think,  when  home  returning, 
Bright  we’ve  seen  it  burning, 

Oh  ! thus  remember  me. 

Oft  as  summer  closes, 

On  its  lingering  roses, 

Once  so  loved  by  thee, 

Think  of  her  who  wove  them, 


Her  who  made  thee  love  them, 
Oh  ! then  remember  me. 

When  around  the  dying, 
Autumn  leaves  are  lying, 

Oh  ! then  remember  me. 
And,  at  night,  when  gazing, 
On  the  gay  hearth  blazing, 

Oh  ! still  remember  me. 
Then  should  music,  stealing 
All  the  soul  of  feeling, 

To  thy  heart  appealing, 

Draw  one  tear  from  thee  ; 
Then  let  memory  bring  thee 
Strains  I used  to  sing  thee — 
Oh  ! then  remember  me. 


WAR  SONG. 

REMEMBER  THE  GLORIES  OF  BRIEN  THE 
BRAVE. 

Aik — Molly  Macalpm. 

*|||)EMEMBER  the  glories  of  Brien  the 


Brave, 

Though  the  days  of  the  hero  are  o’er  ; 
Though  lost  to  Mononia,  and  cold  in  the 
grave, 

He  returns  to  Kinkora  no  more  ! 


2 MOORE’S  IRIS  II  M E LODI  E S . 


That  star  of  the  field,  which  so  often  has 
pour’d 

Its  beam  on  the  battle,  is  set  ; 

But  enough  of  its  glory  remains  on  each 
sword 

To  light  us  to  glory  yet ! 

Mononia!  when  nature  embellish’d  the 
tint 

Of  thy  fields  and  thy  mountains  so  fair, 

Did  she  ever  intend  that  a tyrant  should 
print 

The  footstep  of  slavery  there  ? 

No,  freedom  ! whose  smile  wre  shall  never 
resign. 

Go,  tell  our  invaders,  the  Danes, 

’Tis  sweeter  to  bleed  for  an  age  at  thy 
shrine, 

Than  to  sleep  but  a moment  in  chains  ! 

Forget  not  our  wounded  companions 
who  stood 

In  the  day  of  distress  by  our  side  ; 

While  the  moss  of  the  valley  grew  red 
with  their  blood, 

They  stirr’d  not,  but  conquer’d  and 
died  ! 

The  sun  that  now  blesses  our  arms  with 
his  light, 

Saw  them  fall  upon  Ossory’s  plain ! 

Oh  let  him  not  blush,  when  he  leaves  us 
to-night, 

To  find  that  they  fell  there  in  vain ! 


ERIN ! THE  TEAR  AND  THE 
SMILE  IN  THINE  EYES. 

Air — Aileen  Aroon. 

,/j£RIN  ! the  tear  and  the  smile  in  thine 

lf§  eyes 

Blend  like  the  rainbow  that  hangs  in  thy 
skies ! 

Shining  through  sorrow’s  stream, 


Saddening  through  pleasure’s  beam, 
Thy  sons,  with  doubtful  gleam, 

Weep  while  they  rise  ! 

Erin  ! thy  silent  tear  never  shall  cease, 
Erin  ! thy  languid  smile  ne’er  shall  in- 
crease, 

Till,  like  the  rainbow’s  light, 

Thy  various  tints  unite, 

And  form,  in  Heaven’s  sight, 

One  arch  of  peace  ! 


OH  BREATHE  NOT  HIS  NAME. 

Air—  T he  Brown  Maid. 

/jjtH  breathe  not  his  name,  let  it  sleep 
<fg§l  in  the  shade, 

Where  cold  and  unhonor’d  his  relics  are 
laid  ; 

Sad,  silent,  and  dark  be  the  tears  that 
we  shed, 

As  the  night-dew  that  falls  on  the  grass 
o’er  his  head  ! 

But  the  night-dew  that  falls,  though  in 
""  silence  it  weeps, 

Shall  brighten  with  verdure  the  grave 

where  he  sleeps, 

And  the  tear  that  we  shed,  though  in 
secret  it  rolls, 

Shall  long  keep  his  memory  green  in  our 
souls. 


WHEN  HE  WHO  ADORES  THEE. 

Air — T he  Fox’s  Sleep. 

£5f#ffHEN  he  who  adores  thee  has  left 
but  the  name 

Of  his  fault  and  his  sorrow's  behind, 
Oh  say  wilt  thou  weep,  when  they  dark- 
en the  fame 

Of  a life  that  for  thee  was  resign’d  ? 
Yes,  weep,  and  however  my  foes  may 
condemn, 

Thy  tears  shall  efface  their  decree  ; 


I 

MOORE’S  IRISH  MELODIES.  3 


For  Heaven  can  witness,  though  guilty 
to  them, 

I have  been  but  too  faithful  to  thee  ! 

With  thee  were  the  dreams  of  my  earli- 
est love  ; 

Every  thought  of  my  reason  was  thine  : 

In  my  last  humble  prayer  to  the  Spirit 
above, 

Thy  name  shall  be  mingled  with  mine  ! 

Oh  ! blest  are  the  lovers  and  friends  who 
shall  live 

The  days  of  thy  glory  to  see  ; 

But  the  next  dearest  blessing  that  Heav- 
en can  give 

Is  the  pride  of  thus  dying  for  thee  ! 


THE  HARP  THAT  ONCE  THRO’ 
TARA'S  HALLS. 

Aik — Gramachree. 

Ifil^HE  harp  that  once  through  Tara’s 
halls 

The  soul  of  music  shed, 

Now  hangs  as  mute  on  Tara’s  walls 
As  if  that  soul  were  fled. 

So  sleeps  the  pride  of  former  days, 

So  glory’s  thrill  is  o’er, 

And  hearts  that  once  beat  high  for  praise, 
Now  feel  that  pulse  no  more  ! 

No  more  to  chiefs  and  ladies  bright 
The  harp  of  Tara  swells  ; 

The  chord  alone  that  breaks  at  night, 

Its  tale  of  ruin  tells. 

Thus  Freedom  now  so  seldom  wakes, 
The  only  throb  she  gives 
Is  when  some  heart  indignant  breaks, 
To  show  that  still  she  lives. 


OH  THINK  NOT  MY  SPIRITS  ARE 
ALWAYS  AS  LIGHT. 

Aik — John  O’Reilly  the  Active. 

|f|€H  think  not  my  spirits  are  always  as 
light 

And  as  free  from  a pang  as  they  seem 
to  you  now ; 


Nor  expect  that  the  heart-beaming  smile 
of  to-night 

Will  return  with  to-morrow  to  bright- 
en my  brow. 

No,  life  is  a waste  of  wearisome  hours 

Which  seldom  the  rose  of  enjoyment 
adorns  ; 

And  the  heart  that  is  soonest  awake  to 
the  flowers 

Is  always  the  first  to  be  touch’d  by  the 
thorns! 

But  send  round  the  bowl,  and  be  happy  a 
while ; 

May  we  never  meet  worse  in  our  pil- 
grimage here 

Than  the  tear  that  enjoyment  can  gild 
with  a smile, 

And  the  smile  that  compassion  can 
turn  to  a tear  ! 

The  thread  of  our  life  would  be  dark, 
Heaven  knows  ! 

If  it  were  not  with  friendship  and  love 
intertwined  ; 

And  I care  not  how  soon  I may  sink  to 
repose, 

'When  these  blessings  shall  cease  to  be 
dear  to  my  mind  ! 

But  they  who  have  loved  the  fondest, 
the  purest, 

Too  often  have  wept  o’er  the  dream 
they  believed  ; 

And  the  heart  that  has  slumber’d  in 
friendship  securest, 

Is  happy  indeed,  if  ’twas  never  de- 
ceived. 

But  send  round  the  bowl,  while  a relic  of 
truth 

Is  in  man  or  in  woman,  this  prayer  shall 
be  mine — 

That  the  sunshine  of  love  may  illumine 
our  youth, 

And  the  moonlight  of  friendship  con- 
sole our  decline. 


4 MOO  R E’  S I R I 

S II  MELODIES. 

FLY  NOT  YET. 

’ W here  the  eye  of  the  stranger  can  haunt 

Air — Planxty  Kelly. 

us  no  more, 

i*jj|?LY  n()(.  yg^  'tis  just  the  hour 

When  pleasure,  like  the  midnight 

I will  fly  with  my  Coulin,  and  think  the 
rough  wind 

Less  rude  than  the  foes  we  leave  frown- 

flower 

ing  behind. 

That  scorns  the  eye  of  vulgar  light, 
Begins  to  bloom  for  sons  of  night, 

And  I’ll  gaze  on  thy  gold  hair,  as  grace- 

And  maids  who  love  the  moon  ! 

ful  it  wreathes, 

’Twas  but  to  bless  these  hours  of  shade 

And  hang  o’er  thy  soft  harp,  as  wildly  it 

That  beauty  and  the  moon  were  made  ; 
’Tis  then  their  soft  attractions  glowing 

breathes ; 

Nor  dread  that  the  cold-hearted  Saxon 

Set  the  tides  and  goblets  flowing. 

will  tear 

Oh  ! stay, — Oh  ! stay, — 

One  chord  from  that  harp,  or  one  lock 

Joy  so  seldom  weaves  a chain 

from  that  hair. 

Like  this  to-night,  that  oh  ! ’tis  pain 
To  break  its  link  so  soon. 

Fly  not  yet,  the  fount  that  play’d 

THE  MEETING  OF  THE  WATERS. 

In  times  of  old  through  Ammon’s  shade, 
Though  icy  cold  by  day  it  ran, 

Yet  still,  like  souls  of  mirth,  began 
To  burn  when  night  was  near  ; 

And  thus  should  woman’s  heart  and  looks 

Air — T he  Old  Head  of  Denis. 

HERE  is  not  in  the  wide  world  a 
valley  so  sweet 

At  noon  be  cold  as  winter  brooks, 

As  that  vale  in  whose  bosom  the  bright 

Nor  kindle  till  the  night,  returning. 

waters  meet  ! 

Brings  their  genial  hour  for  bui'ning. 

Oh  ! the  last  rays  of  feeling  and  life  must 

Oh  ! stay, — Oh  ! stay, — 

depart 

When  did  morning  ever  break, 

Ere  the  bloom  of  that  valley  shall  fade 

And  find  such  beaming  eyes  awake 

from  my  heart. 

As  those  that  sparkle  here  ! 

/ THO’  THE  LAST  GLIMPSE  OF 

Yet  it  teas  not  that  nature  had  shed  o’er 
the  scene 

Her  purest  of  crystal  and  brightest  of 
green ; 

ERIN  WITH  SORROW  I SEE- 

’Twas  not  the  soft  magic  of  streamlet  or 

Air — Coulin. 

hill, 

|Fj|^HOUGH  the  last  glimpse  of  Erin 

Oh  ! no — it  was  something  more  exquisite 
still. 

with  sorrow  I see, 

Yet  wherever  thou  art  shall  seem  Erin  to 

’Twas  that  friends,  the  beloved  of  my 

me  ; 

bosom,  were  near, 

In  exile  thy  bosom  shall  still  be  my  home, 

Who  made  every  dear  scene  of  enchant- 

And  thine  eyes  make  my  climate  where- 

ment  more  dear, 

ever  we  roam. 

And  who  felt  how  the  best  charms  of 

To  the  gloom  of  some  desert  or  cold 

nature  improve, 

When  we  see  them  reflected  from  looks 

rocky  shore, 

that  we  love. 

MOORE’S  IRISH  MELODIES.  5 


Sweet  vale  of  Avoca ! how  calm  could  I 
rest 

In  thy  bosom  of  shade  with  the  friends  I 
love  best, 

Where  the  storms  that  we  feel  in  this 
cold  world  should  cease, 

And  our  hearts,  like  thy  waters,  be 
mingled  in  peace  ! 


RICH  AND  RARE  WERE  THE 
OEMS  SHE  WORE. 

Air — The  Summer  is  Coming. 

^jgjfilCH  and  rare  were  the  gems  she 
wore,  _ 

And  a bright  gold  ring  on  her  -wand  she 
bore  ; 

But  oh  ! her  beauty  was  far  beyond 
Her  sparkling  gems  or  snow-white  wand. 

11  Lady  ! dost  thou  not  fear  to  stray, 

So  lone  and  lovely  through  this  bleak 
way  ? 

Are  Erin’s  sons  so  good  or  so  cold, 

As  not  to  be  tempted  by  woman  or  gold  ?” 
I “ Sir  Knight ! I feel  not  the  least  alarm, 
j No  son  of  Erin  will  offer  me  harm — 

{ For  though  they  love  woman  and  golden 
store, 

Sir  Knight ! they  love  honor  and  virtue 
more.” 

On  she  went,  and  her  maiden  smile 
In  safety  lighted  her  round  the  Green 
Isle. 

And  blest  forever  is  she  who  relied 
Upon  Erin’s  honor,  and  Erin’s  pride  ! 


AS  A BEAM  O’ER  THE  FACE  OF 
THE  WATERS  MAY  GLOW 

Air — T he  Young  Mans  Bream. 

f||S  a beam  o’er  the  face  of  the  waters 
UU?  may  glow, 

While  the  tide  runs  in  darkness  and  cold- 
ness below, 


So  the  cheek  may  be  tinged  with  a warm 
sunny  smile, 

Though  the  cold  heart  to  ruin  runs  dark- 
ly the  while. 

One  fatal  remembrance,  one  sorrow  that 
throws 

Its  bleak  shade  alike  o’er  our  joys  and 
our  woes, 

To  which  life  nothing  brighter  or  darker 
can  bring, 

For  which  joy  has  no  balm  and  affliction 
no  string  ! 

Oh  ! this  thought  in  the  midst  of  enjoy- 
ment will  stay, 

Like  a dead  leafless  branch  in  the  sum- 
mer’s bright  ray; 

The  beams  of  the  warm  sun  play  round 
it  in  vain, 

It  may  smile  in  his  light,  but  it  blooms 
not  again  ! 


ST.  SEN  ANUS  AND  THE  LADY. 

Air — T he  Brown  Thorn. 

ST.  SENANUS. 

u 04 H ! haste  and  leave  this  sacred 
isle, 

Unholy  bark,  ere  morning  smile  : 

For  on  thy  deck,  though  dark  it  be, 

A female  form  I see  ; 

And  I have  sworn  this  sainted  sod 
Shall  ne’er  by  woman’s  feet  be  trod  !” 

THE  LADY. 

u 0 father,  send  not  hence  my  bark, 
Through  wintry  winds  and  billows  dark  ; 
I come  with  humble  heart  to  share 
Thy  morn  and  evening  prayer  ; 
Nor'mine  the  feet,  O holy  saint, 

The  brightness  of  thy  sod  to  taint.” 


MOORE’S  IRISH  MELODIES. 


But  legends  hint,  that  had  the  maid 
Till  morning’s  ight  delay’d, 

And  given  the  saint  one  rosy  smile, 
She  ne’er  had  left  his  lonely  isle. 


HOW  DEAR  TO  ME  THE  HOUR. 

Aik — The  Twisting  of  the  Hope. 

IjjjtOW  dear  to  me  the  hour  when  uay- 
''Tj;  light  dies, 

And  sunbeams  melt  along  the  silent 
sea, 

For  then  sweet  dreams  of  other  days 
arise, 

And  memory  breathes  her  vesper  sigh 
to  thee. 

And  as  I watch  the  line  of  light  that  plays 
Along  the  smooth  wave  towards  the 
burning  west, 

I long  to  tread  the  golden  path  of  rays, 
And  think  ’twould  lead  to  some  bright 
isle  of  rest ! 


TAKE  BACK  THE  VIRGIN  PAGE. 

"WRITTEN  ON  RETURNING  A BLANK  BOOK. 

Air — Dermott. 

ffgAKE  back  the  virgin  page, 
White  and  unwritten  still ; 
Some  hand  more  calm  and  sage 
The  leaf  must  fill. 

Thoughts  come,  as  pure  as  light, 
Pure  as  even  you  require  ; 

But  oh  ! each  word  I write, 

Love  turns  to  fire. 

Yet  let  me  keep  the  book  ; 

Oft  shall  my  heart  renew, 

When  on  its  leaves  I look, 

Dear  thoughts  of  you  ! 


Like  you,  ’tis  far  and  bright ; 

Like  you,  too  bright  and  fair 
To  let  wild  passion  write 
One  wrong  wish  there ! 

Haply,  when  from  those  eyes 
Far,  far  away  I roam, 

Should  calmer  thoughts  arise 
Toward  you  and  home  ; 

Fancy  may  trace  some  line, 

Worthy  those  eyes  to  meet, 
Thoughts  that  not  burn,  but  shine, 
Pure,  calm,  and  sweet ! 

And  as  the  records  are 

Which  wandering  seamen  keep, 
Led  by  their  hidden  star 
Through  winters  deep ; 

So  may  the  words  I write 

Tell  through  what  storms  I stray, 
You  still  the  unseen  light 
Guiding  my  way  ! 


THE  LEGACY. 

Air — Unknown. 

in  death  I shall  calm  recline, 
Oh  bear  my  heart  to  my  mis- 
tress dear  ; 

Tell  her  it  liyed  upon  smiles  and  wine 
Of  the  brightest  hue,  while  it  linger’d 
here. 

Bid  her  not  shed  one  tear  of  sorrow 
To  sully  a heart  so  brilliant  and  light ; 

But  balmy  drops  of  the  red  grape  bor- 
row, 

To  bathe  the  relic  from  morn  till 
night. 

When  the  light  of  my  song  is  o’er, 

Then  take  my  harp  to  your  ancient 
hall  ; 

Hang  it  up  at  that  friendly  door, 

Where  weary  travellers  love  to  call. 


The  lady’s  prayer  Senanus  spurn’d ; 

The  winds  blew  fresh,  the  bark  return’d. 


POEMS  BY  JAMES  CLARENCE  M A N Gf  A N „ 73 


Me,  I tweak  no  beak  among  them  ; — 
hawks 

Must  not  pounce  on  hawks  : besides,  in 
song 

I could  once  beat  all  of  them  by  chalks. 

Though  you  find  me  as  I near  my  goal, 
Sentimentalizing  like  Rousseau, 

Oh  ! I had  a grand  Byronian  soul 
Twenty  golden  years  ago  ! 

Tick-tick,  tick-tick  ! — not  a sound  save 
Time’s. 

And  the  wind-gust  as  it  drives  the 
rain — 

Tortured  torturer  of  reluctant  rhymes, 

Go  to  bed,  and  rest  thine  aching  brain  ! 

Sleep  ! — no  more  the  dupe  of  hopes  or 
schemes  ; 

Soon  thou  sleepest  where  the  thistles 
blow — 

Curious  anticlimax  to  thy  dreams 
Twenty  golden  years  ago  ! 


Scarce  could  love  me  were  they  living 
now  ; 

But  my  loneliness  hath  darker  ills — 
Such  dun  duns  as  Conscience,  Thought 
& Co., 

Awful  Gorgon s ! worse  than  tailors’  bills 
Twenty  golden  years  ago  ! 

Did  I paint  a fifth  of  what  I feel, 

Oh,  how  plaintive  you  would  ween  I 
was  ! 

But  I won’t,  albeit  I have  a deal, 

More  to  wail  about  than  Kernel’  has  ! 

Kerner’s  tears  are  wept  for  wither’d 
flowers, 

Mine  for  wither’d  hopes  ; my  scroll  of 
woe 

Dates,  alas  ! from  youth’s  deserted  bow- 
ers, 

Twenty  golden  years  ago  ! 

Yet,  may  Deutschland’s  bardlings  flourish 
long  ; 


THE  ANGEL'S  WHISPER. 

BABY  was  sleeping, 

£££  Its  mother  was  weeping, 

For  lier  husband  was  far  on  the  wild 
raging  sea ; 

And  the  tempest  was  swelling 
Round  the  fisherman’s  dwelling, 

And  she  cried,  “ Dermot,  darling,  oh 
come  back  to  me  ! ” 


And  the  wife  wept  with  joy  her  babe’s 
father  to  see  ; 

And  closely  caressing 
Her  child,  with  a blessing, 

Said,  “ I knew  that  the  angels  wore 
whispering  with  thee.” 


THE  FAIRY  BOY. 


Her  beads  while  she  number’d, 

The  baby  still  slumber’d, 

And  smiled  in  her  face  as  she  bended 
her  knee  ; 

“ Oh  blest  be  that  warning, 

My  child,  thy  sleep  adorning, 

For  I know  that  the  angels  are  whisper- 
ing with  thee. 

u And  while  they  are  keeping 
Bright  watch  o’er  thy  sleeping, 

Oh,  pray  to  them  softly,  my  baby,  with 
me ! 

And  say  thou  wouldst  leather 
They’d  watch  o’er  thy  father  ! — 
For  I know  that  the  angels  are  whisper- 
ing with  thee.” 

The  dawn  of  the  morning 
Saw  Dermot  returning, 


MOTHER  came  when  stars  were 
££?  Idling* 

Wailing  round  a lonely  spring  ; 

Thus  she  cried,  while  tears  were  falling, 
Calling  on  the  Fairy  King  : 
u Why,  with  spells  my  child  caressing, 
Courting  him  with  fairy  joy, 

Why  destroy  a mother's  blessing,, — 
Wherefore  steal  my  baby- boy  ? 

11  O’er  the  mountain,  through  the  wild- 
wood, 

Where  his  childhood  loved  to  play, 
Where  the  flowers  are  freshly  springing, 
There  I wander  day  by  day  ; 

There  I wander,  growing  fonder 
Of  the  child  that  made  my  joy, 

On  the  echoes  wildly  calling 
To  restore  my  fairy  boy7. 


SJkMlDKLi  LOYEB 


THE  POEMS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER. 


u But  in  vain  my  plaintive  calling, — 
Tears  arc  falling  all  in  vain, — 

He  now  sports  with  fairy  pleasure, 
He’s  the  treasure  of  their  train  ! 
Fare  thee  well  ! my  child,  forever, 

In  this  world  I’ve  lost  my  joy, 

But  in  the  next  we  ne’er  shall  sever, 
There  I’ll  rind  my  angel  boy.” 


TRUE  LOVE  CAN  NE'ER  FOR- 
GET. 

44  love  can  ne’er  Orget ; 

& Fondly  as  when  we  met, 
Dearest,  I love  thee  yet, 

My  darling  one  ! ” 

Thus  sung  a minstrel  gray 
His  sweet  impassion’d  lay, 

Down  by  the  Ocean’s  spray, 

At  set  of  sun. 

But  wither’d  was  the  minstrel’s  sight, 
Morn  to  him  was  dark  as  night, 

Yet  his  heart  was  full  of  light, 

And  thus  the  lay  begun  : 
u True  love  can  ne’er  forget; 

Fondly  as  when  we  met, 

Dearest,  I love  thee  yet, 

My  darling  one  ! ” 

u Long  years  are  past  and  o’er, 

Since  from  this  fatal  shore 
Cold  hearts  and  cold  winds  bore 
My  love  from  me.” 

Scarcely  the  minstrel  spoke, 

When  forth,  with  flashing  stroke, 

A boat’s  light  oar  the  silence  broke, 
Over  the  sea. 

Soon  upon  her  native  strand 
Doth  a lovely  lady  land, 

While  the  minstrel’s  love-taught  hand 
Did  o’er  his  wild  harp  run  : 

11  True  love  can  ne’er  forget ; 

Fondly  as  when  we  met, 

Dearest,  I love  thee  yet, 

My  darling  one  ! ” 

Where  the  minstrel  sat  alone, 

There  that  lady  fair  had  gone, 

Within  his  hand  she  placed  her  own. 


The  bard  dropp’d  on  his  knee; 
From  his  lips  soft  blessings  came, 

He  kiss’d  her  hand  with  truest  flame, 
In  trembling  tone  she  named — her 
name, 

Though  her  he  could  not  see ; 

But  oh  ! — the  touch  the  bard  could 
tell 

Of  that  dear  hand,  remember’d  well. 
Ah  ! — by  many  a secret  spell 

Can  true  love  find  his  own ; 

For  true  love  can  ne’er  forget  ; 

Fondly  as  when  they  met, 

He  loved  his  lady  yet, 

His  darling  one! 


NYMPH  OF  NIAGARA. 

OIPH  OF  NIAGARA ! Sprite  of 
the  mist  ! 

With  a wild  magic  my  brow  thou  hast 
kiss’d  ; 

I am  thy  slave,  and  my  mistress  art  thou, 

For  thy  wild  kiss  of  magic  is  yet  on  my 
brow. 

I feel  it  as  first  when  I knelt  before  thee, 

With  thy  emerald  robe  flowing  brightly 
and  free, 

Fringed  with  the  spray-pearls,  and  float- 
ing in  mist — 

Thus  ’twas  my  brow  with  wild  magic 
you  kiss’d. 

Thine  am  I still  ; — and  I’ll  never  forget 

The  moment  the  spell  on  my  spirit  was 
set ; — 

Thy  chain  but  a foam-wreath — yet 
stronger  by  far 

Than  the  manacle,  steel-wrought,  for 
captive  of  war  ; 

For  the  steel  it  will  rust,  and  the  war 
will  be  o’er, 

And  the  manacled  captive  be  free  as 
before  ; 


76 


T HE  POEMS  O F S A M U E L L 0 V E R . 


While  the  foam-wreath  will  bind  me 
forever  to  thee  ! — 

I love  the  enslavement — and  would  not 
be  free  ! 

Nymph  of  Niagara ! play  with  the 
breeze, 

Sport  with  the  fauns  ’mid  the  old  for- 
est trees  ; 

Blush  into  rainbows  at  kiss  of  the  sun, 

From  the  gleam  of  his  dawn  till  his 
bright  course  be  run  ; 

| I’ll  not  be  jealous — for  pure  is  thy 
sporting, 

Heaven- born  is  all  that  around  thee  is 
courting — 

Still  will  I love  thee,  sweet  Sprite  of 
the  mist, 

As  first  when  my  brow  with  wild  magic 
you  kiss’d  ! 


HOW  TO  ASK  AND  HAVE. 

^ ’tis  time  I should  talk  to 

your  mother, 

Sweet  Mary,”  says  I ; 

“ Oh,  don’t  talk  to  my  mother,”  says 
Mary, 

Beginning  to  cry  : 

u For  my  mother  says  men  are  deceivers, 
And  never,  I know,  will  consent ; 
She  says  girls  in  a hurry  who  marry 
At  leisure  repent.” 

“ Then,  suppose  I would  talk  to  your 
father, 

Sweet  Mary,”  says  I ; 

“ Oh,  don’t  talk  to  my  father,”  says 
Mary, 

Beginning  to  cry  : 

“For  my  father,  he  loves  me  so  dearly, 
He’ll  never  consent  I should  go — 

If  you  talk  to  my  father,”  says  Mary, 

“ He’ll  surely  say  ‘ No.’  ” 

u Then  how  shall  I get  you,  my  jewel  ? 
Sweet  Mary,”  says  I ; 


“ If  your,  father  and  mother’s  so  cruel, 
Most  surely  I’ll  die  !” 

“ Oh,  never  say  die,  dear,”  says  Mary  ; 

u A way  now  to  save  you,  i see  : 
Since  my  parents  are  both  so  contrary — 
You’d  better  ask  me.  ” 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  WEST. 

/jrClI  ! come  to  the  West,  love, — oh, 
come  there  with  me ; 

’Tis  a sweet  land  of  verdure  that  springs 
from  the  sea, 

Where  fair  plenty  smiles  from  her  emer- 
ald throne ; 

Oh,  come  to  the  West,  and  I'll  make  thee 
my  own ! 

I’ll  guard  thee,  I’ll  tend  thee,  I’ll  love 
thee  the  best, 

And  you’ll  say  there's  no  land  like  the 
land  of  the  West. 

The  South  has  its  roses  and  bright  skies 
of  blue, 

But  ours  are  more  sweet  with  love’s  own 
changeful  hue — 

Half  sunshine,  half  tears, — like  the  girl 
I love  best, 

Oh  ! what  is  the  South  to  the  beautiful 
West  ! 

Then  come  to  the  West,  and  the  rose  on 
thy  mouth 

Will  be  sweeter  to  me  than  the  flowers 
of  the  South  ! 

The  North  has  its  snow-towers  of  daz- 
zling array, 

All  sparkling  with  gems  in  the  ne’er- 
setting day  , 

There  the  Storm-King  may  dwell  in  the 
halls  he  loves  best, 

But  the  soft-breathing  Zephyr  he  plays 
in  the  West. 

Then  Come  there  with  me,  where  no 
cold  wind  doth  blow, 

And  thy  neck  will  seem  faii’er  to  me 
than  the  snow  ! 


T HE  POEMS  OF  SAMUEL  LOVER 


93 


What  will  you  do,  love,  when  waves 
divide  us, 

And  friends  may  chide  us 

For  being  fond  ? ” 

u Though  waves  divide  us,  and  friends 
be  chiding, 

In  faith  abiding, 

I’ll  still  be  true  ! 

And  I’ll  pray  for  thee  on  the  stormy 
ocean, 

In  deep  devotion — 

That’s  what  I’ll  do  ! ” 


“ What  would  you  do,  love,  if  distant  tid- 
ings 

j Thy  fond  confidings 

Should  undermine  ? — 

And  I,  abiding  ’neatli  sultry  skies, 
Should  think  other  eyes 

Were  as  bright  as  thine  ? ” 

| u Oh,  name  it  not  ! — though  guilt  and 
shame 


Were  on  thy  name, 

I’d  still  be  true  : 

But  that  heart  of  thine — should  another 
share  it — 

I could  not  bear  it  ! 

What  would  I do  ? ” 

u What  would  you  do,  love,  when  home 
returning, 

With  hopes  high-burning, 

With  wealth  for  you, 

If  my  bark,  which  bounded  o’er  foreign 
foam, 

Should  be  lost  near  home — 

Ah  ! what  would  you  do  f ” 

u So  thou  wert  spared — I’d  bless  the 
morrow 

In  want  and  sorrow, 

That  left  me  you  ; 

And  I’d  welcome  thee  from  the  wasting 
billow, 

This  heart  thy  pillow — 

That’s  what  I’d  do  J ” 


tttfe  POEM$ 


-o  OF 


TH©MAB  : DAVIS, 


Rational  ^alladp  and  £onq£. 


THE  MEN  OF  TIPPERARY. 

Aik — Original. 


Ift:ET  Britain  boast  her  British  hosts, 


About  them  all  right  little  care 


we 


Not  British  seas  nor  British  coasts 
Can  match  the  man  of  Tipperary  ! 


II. 


Tall  is  his  form,  his  heart  is  warm, 
His  spirit  light  as  any  fairy  ; 

His  wrath  is  fearful  as  the  storm 
That  sweeps  The  Hills  of  Tipperary  ! 


in. 


Lead  him  to  fight  for  native  land, 

His  is  no  courage  cold  and  wary  ; 
The  troops  live  not  on  earth  would 
stand 

The  headlong  Charge  of  Tipperary  ! 


IV. 


Yet  meet  him  in  his  cabin  rude, 

Or  dancing  with  his  dark-haired 
Mary, 

You’d  swear  they  knew  no  other  mood 
But  Mirth  and  Love  in  Tipperary  ! 


v. 


You’re  free  to  share  his  scanty  meal, 
His  plighted  word  he’ll  never  vary — 
In  vain  they  tried  with  gold  and  steel 
To  shake  The  Faith  of  Tipperary  ! 


VI. 


Soft  is  his  cailin's  sunny  eye, 

Her  mien  is  mild,  her  step  is  airy, 
Her  heart  is  fond,  her  soul  is  high — 
Oh  ! she’s  the  pride  of  Tipperary  ! 


VII. 


Let  Britain  brag  her  motley  rag ; 
We’ll  lift  the  Green  more  proud  and 
airy  ; 

Be  mine  the  lot  to  bear  that  flag, 

And  head  The  Men  of  Tipperary  ! 


THOMAS  BA  VIS. 


THE  POEMS  OF  THOMAS  DAVIS  95 


VIII. 

Though  Britain  boasts  her  British 
hosts, 

About  them  all  right  little  care  we  ; 
Give  us,  to  guard  our  native  coasts, 
The  Matchless  Men  of  Tipperary  ! 


THE  RIVERS. 

Air — Kathleen  O’  More. 

I. 

l^fjj^HERE’S  a far-famed  Blackwater 
that  runs  t°  Loch  Neagh, 

There’s  a fairer  Blackwater  that  runs  to 
the  sea, 

The  glory  of  Ulster, 

The  beauty  of  Munster, 

These  twin  rivers  be. 

II. 

From  the  banks  of  that  river  Benburb’s* 
towers  arise  ; 

This  stream  shines  as  bright  as  a tear 
from  sweet  eyes  ; 

This,  fond  as  a young  bride  ; 
That,  with  foeman’s  blood  dyed — 
Both  dearly  we  prize. 


Deep  sunk  in  that  bed  is  the  sword  of 
Monroe, 

Since,  ’twixt  it  and  Donagh,  he  met 
Owen  Roe, 

And  Charlemont’s  cannon 
Slew  many  a man  on 

rnhese  meadows  below. 

IV. 

The  shrines  of  Armagh  gleam  far  over 
yon  lea, 

Nor  afar  is  Dungannon  that  nursed  lib- 
erty, 

And  yonder  Red  Hugh 
Marshal  Bagenal  overthrew 

On  Beal-an-atha-Buidhe. 


v. 

But  far  kinder  the  woodlands  of  rich 
Convarnore, 

And  more  gorgeous  the  turrets  of  saint- 
ly Lismore  ; 

There  the  stream,  like  a maiden 
With  love  overladen, 

Pants  wild  on  each  shore. 

VI. 

Its  rocks  rise  like  statues,  tall,  stately, 
and  fair, 

And  the  trees,  and  the  flowers,  and 
the  mountains,  and  air, 

With  Wonder's  soul  near  you, 

To  share  with,  and  cheer  you, 
Make  Paradise  there. 

VII. 

I would  rove  by  that  stream,  ere  my 
flag  I unrolled  ; 

I would  fly  to  these  banks,  my  betrothed 
to  enfold — 

The  pride  of  our  sire-land, 

The  Eden  of  Ireland, 

More  precious  than  gold. 

VIII. 

May  their  borders  be  free  from  oppres- 
sion and  blight  ; 

May  their  daughters  and  sons  ever  fond- 
ly unite — 

The  glory  of  Ulster, 

The  beauty  of  Munster, 

Our  strength  and  delight. 


GLENGARIFF 

Air — O'Sullivan  s March. 


I. 


| 90  THE  POEMS  OF 

Half  in  the  shade,  and  half  in  the 
moon, 

And  thought  of  the  time  when  the  Sac- 
sanach  slaughter 

Reddened  the  night  and  darkened  the 
noon  ; 

Mo  nuar ! mo  nuar ! mo  nuar  ! I said — 
When  I think,  in  this  valley  and 
sky — 

Where  true  lovers  and  poets  should 
sigh — 

Of  the  time  when  its  chieftain  O’Sullivan 
tied. 


ii. 

Then  my  mind  went  along  with  O’Sullivan 
marching 

Over  Musk’ry’s  moors  and  Ormond’s 
plain, 

His  curachs  the  waves  of  the  Shannon 
o’erarching, 

And  his  pathway  mile-mai’ked  with 
the  slain  : 

Mo  nuar  ! mo  nuar  ! mo  nuar  ! I said — 
Yet  ’twas  better  far  from  you  to  go, 
And  to  battle  with  torrent  and  foe, 

Than  linger  as  slaves  where  your  sweet 
waters  spread. 


hi. 

But  my  fancy  burst  on,  like  a clan  o’er 
the  border, 

To  times  that  seemed  almost  at  hand, 

When  grasping  her  banner,  old  Erin’s 
Lamh  Laidir 

Alone  shall  rule  over  the  rescued  land  ; 

0 baotho  ! 0 baotlio  ! 0 baotho  ! I said — 
Be  our  marching  as  steady  and 
strong, 

And  freemen  our  valleys  shall 
throng, 

When  the  last  of  our  foemen  is  vanquished 
and  fled. 


THOMAS  DAVIS. 


THE  WEST’S  ASLEEP. 

Ant—  The  Brink  of  the  White  Rocks. 

I. 

Ot/lf  llEN  all  besides  a vigil  keep, 

The  West’s  asleep,  the  West’s 
asleep — 

Alas  ! and  well  may  Erin  w’eep, 

When  Connaught  lies  in  slumber  deep. 
There  lake  and  plain  smile  fair  and  free, 
’Mid  rocks — their  guardian  chivalry — 
Sing  oh  ! let  man  learn  liberty 
From  crashing  wind  and  lashing  sea. 

ii. 

That  chainless  wave  and  lovely  land 
Freedom  and  Nationhood  demand — 
lie  sure,  the  great  God  never  planned, 
For  slumbering  slaves,  a home  so  grand. 
And,  long,  a brave  and  haughty  race 
Honored  and  sentinelled  the  place — 
Sing  oh  ! not  even  their  sons’  disgrace 
Can  quite  destroy  their  glory’s  trace. 

hi. 

For  often,  in  O’Connor’s  van, 

To  triumph  dashed  each  Connaught 
clan — 

And  fleet  as  deer  the  Normans  ran 
Through  Corlieu’s  Pass  and  Ardrahan. 
And  later  times  saw  deeds  as  brave; 

And  glory  guards  Clanricard’s  grave — 
Sing  oh  ! they  died  their  land  to  save, 
At  Aughrim’s  slopes  and  Shannon’s  wave. 

IV. 

And  if,  when  all  a vigil  keep, 

The  West’s  asleep,  the  West’s  asleep — 
Alas  ! and  well  may  Erin  weep, 

That  Connaught  lies  in  slumber  deep. 
But — hark  ! — some  voice  like  thunder 
spake, 

“ The  West's  aivake,  the  West's  awake” — 
“ Sing  oh  ! hurra  ! let  England  quake, 
We’ll  watch  till  death  for  Erin’s  sake  !” 


AILLEEN. 

tJJgIS  not  for  love  of  gold  I go, 
Tis  not  for  love  of  fame  ; 
Though  fortune  should  her  smile 
bestow 

And  I may  win  a name, 

Ailleen, 

And  I may  win  a name. 

And  yet  it  is  for  gold  I go, 

And  yet  it  is  for  fame, 

That  they  may  deck  another  brow, 
And  bless  another  name, 

Ailleen, 

And  bless  another  name. 

For  this — but  this,  I go  ; for  this 
I lose  thy  love  awhile, 

And  all  the  soft  and  quiet  bliss 
Of  thy  young,  faithful  smile, 
Ailleen, 

Of  thy  young,  faithful  smile. 

I go  to  brave  a world  I hate, 

And  woo  it  o’er  and  o’er, 

And  tempt  a wave,  and  try  a fate 
Upon  a stranger  shore, 

Ailleen, 

Upon  a stranger  shore. 

Oh  ! when  the  bays  are  all  my  own, 
I know  a heart  will  care  ! 

Oh  ! when  the  gold  is  wooed  and  won, 
I know  a brow  shall  wear, 
Ailleen, 

I know  a brow  shall  wear  ! 


And  when,  with  both  return’d  again, 
My  native  land  to  see, 

I know  a smile  will  meet  me  there, 
And  a hand  will  welcome  me, 
Ailleen, 

And  a hand  will  welcome  me. 


SOG-GARTH  AROON. 

|||M  I the  slave  they  say, 
Soggarth  aroon  ? 

Since  you  did  show  the  way, 
Soggarth  aroon, 

Tlieir  slave  no  more  to  be, 

While  they  would  work  with  me 
Ould  Ireland’s  slavery, 

Soggarth  aroon"? 

Why  not  her  poorest  man, 
Soggarth  aroon, 

Try  and  do  all  he  can, 

Soggarth  aroon, 

Her  commands  to  fulfil 
Of  his  own  heart  and  will, 

Side  by  side  with  you  still, 
Soggarth  aroon  ? 

Loyal  and  brave  to  you, 
Soggarth  aroon, 

Yet  be  no  slave  to  you, 

Soggarth  aroon, — 

Nor,  out  of  fear  to  you, 

Stand  up  so  near  to  you — 

Och  ! out  of  fear  to  you  ! 
Soggarth  aroon  ! 


Soggarth  aroon, 

When  the  cowld  blast  did  bite 
Soggarth  aroon, 

Came  to  my  cabin-door, 

And  on  my  earthen-Hure 
Knelt  by  me,  sick  and  poor, 
Soggarth  aroon  ? 

Who,  on  the  marriage-day, 
Soggarth  aroon, 

Made  the  poor  cabin  gay, 
Soggarth  aroon — 

And  did  both  laugh  and  sing, 
Making  our  hearts  to  ring, 

At  the  poor  christening, 
Soggarth  aroon! 

Who,  as  friend  only  met, 
Soggarth  aroon, 

Never  did  flout  me  yet, 
Soggarth  aroon  ? 

And  when  my  hearth  was  dim, 
Gave,  while  his  eye  did  brim, 
What  I should  give  to  him, 
Soggarth  aroon  ! 

Och  ! you,  and  only  you, 
Soggarth  aroon  ! 

And  for  this  I was  true  to  you, 
Soggarth  aroon  ; 

In  love  they’ll  never  shake, 
When  for  ould  Ireland’s  sake, 
We  a true  part  did  take, 
Soggarth  aroon  ! 


THE  FETCH- 

TfT’  HE  mother  died  when  the  child  was 
born, 

And  left  me  her  baby  to  keep  ; 

I rock’d  its  cradle  the  night  and  morn, 
Or,  silent,  hung  o’er  it  to  weep. 

’Twas  a sickly  child  through  its  infancy, 
Its  cheeks  were  so  ashy  pale  ; 


glee, 

Out  in  the  sharp,  fresh  gale. 

And  then  my  little  girl  grew  strong, 

And  laugh’d  the  hours  away  ; 

Or  sung  me  the  merry  lark’s  mountain 
song, 

Which  he  taught  her  at  break  of  day. 

When  she  wreathed  her  hair  in  thicket 
bowers, 

With  the  hedge-rose  and  hare-bell  blue, 

I call’d  her  my  May,  in  her  crown  of 
flowers 

And  her  smile  so  soft  and  new. 

And  the  rose,  I thought,  never  shamed 
her  cheek, 

But  rosy  and  rosier  made  it : 

And  her  eye  of  blue  did  more  brightly 
break, 

Thro’  the  blue-bell  that  strove  to  shade 
it 

One  evening  I left  her  asleep  in  her 
smiles, 

And  walk’d  through  the  mountains 
lonely  ; 

I was  far  from  my  darling,  ah  ! many 
long  miles, 

And  I thought  of  her,  and  her  only  ! 

She  darken’d  my  path  like  a troubled 
dream, 

In  that  solitude  far  and  drear  ; 

I spoke  to  my  child  ! but  she  did  not 

seem 

To  hearken  with  human  ear. 

She  only  look’d  with  a dead,  dead  eye, 

And  a wan,  wan  cheek  of  sorrow, 

I knew  her  Fetch  ! she  was  call’d  to  die, 

And  she  died  upon  the  morrow. 


158 


r II  E POEMS  OF  J 0 II  N BANIM. 


Who  in  the  winter’s  night, 


* 


THE  POEMS  OF  JOHN  BANIM 


159 


THE  IRISH  MAIDEN’S  SONG. 


|OU  know  it,  now — it  is  betray’d 


This  moment — in  mine  eye — 
And  in  my  young  cheek’s  crimson  shade. 
And  in  my  whisper’d  sigh  ; 

You  know  it,  now — yet  listen,  now — 
Though  ne’er  was  love  more  true, 

My  plight  and  troth,  and  virgin  vow, 
Still,  still  I keep  from  you, 

Ever — 


Ever,  until  a proof  you  give 
How  oft  you’ve  heard  me  say 
I would  not  e’en  his  empress  live, 

Who  idles  life  away 
Without  one  effort  for  the  land, 

In  which  my  fathers’  graves 
Were  hollow’d  by  a despot  hand — 

To  darkly  close  on  slaves 

Never ! 

See  ! round  yourself  the  shackles  hang, 
Yet  come  you  to  Love’s  bowers, 
That  only  he  may  soothe  their  pang, 
Or  hide  their  links  in  flowers ; — 

But  try  all  things  to  snap  them,  first, 
And  should  all  fail,  when  tried, 

The  fated  chain  you  cannot  burst 

My  twining  arms  shall  hide 

Ever  ! 


THE  RECONCILIATION. 

T|>'  UE  old  man  he  knelt  at  the  altar 
His  enemy’s  hand  to  take, 

And  at  first  his  weak  voice  did  falter, 
And  his  feeble  limbs  did  shake  ; 

For  his  only  brave  boy,  his  glory, 

Had  been  stretch’d  at  the  old  man’s 
feet, 

A corpse,  all  so  haggard  and  gory, 

By  the  hand  which  he  now  must  greet. 

And  soon  the  old  man  stopp’d  speaking 
And  rage  which  had  not  gone  by, 
From  under  his  brows  came  breaking 
Up  into  his  enemy’s  eye — 

And  now  his  limbs  were  not  shaking, 

But  his  clench’d  hands  his  bosom 
cross’d, 

And  he  look’d  a fierce  wish  to  be  taking 
Revenge  for  the  boy  he  had  lost  ! 

But  the  old  man  he  look’d  around  him, 
And  thought  of  the  place  he  was  in, 
And  thought  of  the  promise  which  bound 
him, 

And  thought  that  revenge  was  sin — 
And  then,  crying  tears,  like  a woman, 

“ Your  hand  !”  he  said — u aye,  that 
hand  ! 

And  I do  forgive  you,  foeman, 

For  the  sake  of  our  bleeding  land  !” 


Samuel  Ferguson. 


Jl* 


DEIRDRA'S  FAREWELL  TO 
ALBA. 

OLD  IRISH  ROMANCE. 

JgpAREWELL  to  fair  Alba,  high  house 

fes  of  the  sun, 

Farewell  to  the  mountain,  the  cliff,  and 
the  dun  ; 

Dun  Sweeny,  adieu  ! for  ray  love  cannot 
stay, 

And  tarry  I may  not  when  love  cries 
away. 

Glen  Vashan  ! Glen  Vashan!  where  roe- 
bucks run  free, 

Where  my  love  used  to  feast  on  the  red 
deer  with  me, 

Where  rock’d  on  thy  waters  while  stormy 
winds  blew, 

My  love  used  to  slumber — Glen  Vashan, 
adieu  ! 

Glendaro  ! Glendaro  ! where  birchen 
boughs  weep 

Honey  dew  at  high  noon  o’er  the  night- 
ingale’s sleep, 

Where  my  love  used  to  lead  me  to  hear 
the  cuckoo 

’Mong  the  high  hazel  bushes — Glendai 
adieu  ! 

Glen  Urchy  ! Glen  Urchy  ! where  loud- 
ly and  long 


E ! 


My  love  used  to  wake  up  the  woods  with 
his  song, 

While  the  son  of  the  rock,  from  the 
depths  of  the  dell, 

Laugh’d  sweetly  in  answer — Glen  Urchy, 
farewell  ! 

Glen  Etive  ! Glen  Etive  ! where  dappled 
does  roam, 

Where  I leave  the  green  sheeling  I first 
call’d  a home  ; 

Wherewith  me  andmy  truelove  delighted 
to  dwell, 

The  sun  made  his  mansion — Glen  Etive, 
farewell ! 

Farewell  to  Inch  Ifraynach,  adieu  to  the 
roar 

Of  the  blue  billows  bursting  in  light  on 
the  shore ; 

Dun  Fiagh,  farewell  ! for  my  love  cannot 
stay. 

And  tarry  I may  not  when  love  cries 
away. 


DEIRDRA’S  LAMENT  FOR  THE 
SONS  OF  USNACH. 

OLD  IRISH  ROMANCE. 

ffjfHE  lions  of  the  hill  are  gone, 

And  I am  left  alone — alone  : 

Dig  the  grave  both  wide  and  deep, 

For  I am  sick,  and  fain  would  sleep  ! 


THE  POEMS  OF  SAMUEL  FERGUSON.  161 

The  falcons  of  the  wood  are  flown, 
And  I am  left  alone — alone  : 

Dig  the  grave  both  deep  and  wide, 
And  let  us  slumber  side  by  side. 

Stag,  exult  on  glen  and  mountain — 
Salmon,  leap  from  loch  to  fountain — 
Heron,  in  the  free  air  warm  ye — 
Usnach’s  sons  no  more  will  harm  ye  ! 

The  dragons  of  the  rock  are  sleeping, 
Sleep  that  wakes  not  for  our  weeping  : 
Dig  the  grave,  and  make  it  ready  ; 
Lav  me  on  my  true-love’s  body. 

Erin’s  stay  no  more  you  are, 

Rulers  of  the  ridge  of  war  ; 

Never  more  ’twill  be  your  fate 
To  keep  the  beam  of  battle  straight  ! 

Lay  their  speai’s  and  bucklers  bright 
By  the  warriors’  sides  aright ; 

Many  a day  the  three  before  me 
On  their  linked  bucklers  bore  me. 

Woe  is  me  ! by  fraud  and  wrong, 
Traitors  false  and  tyrants  strong, 
Fell  Clan  Usnach,  bought  and  sold, 
For  Barach’s  feast  and  Conor’s  gold! 

Lay  upon  the  low  grave  floor, 

’Neath  each  head,  the  blue  claymore  ; 
Many  a time  the  noble  three 
Redden’d  these  blue  blades  for  me. 

Woe  to  Eman,  roof  and  wall  ! — 

Woe  to  Red  Branch,  hearth  and  hall  ! — 
Tenfold  woe  and  black  dishonor 
To  the  foul  and  false  Clan  Conor  ! 

Lay  the  collars,  as  is  meet, 

Of  their  greyhounds  at  their  feet ; 
Many  a time  for  me  have  they 
Brought  the  tall  red  deer  to  bay. 

Dig  the  grave  both  wide  and  deep, 
Sick  I am,  and  fain  would  sleep  ! 
Dig  the  grave  and  make  it  ready, 
Lay  me  on  my  true  love’s  body  ! 

In  the  falcon’s  jesses  throw 
Hook  and  arrow,  line  and  bow ; 
Never  again  by  stream  or  plain 
Shall  the  gentle  woodsmen  go. 

THE  DOWNFALL  OF  THE  GAEL. 

o’gnive,  bard  of  o’neill. 

Sweet  companions  ye  were  ever — 
Harsh  to  me,  your  sister,  never  ; 
Woods  and  wilds  and  misty  valleys 
Were,  with  you,  as  good’s  a palace. 

heart  is  in  woe, 

And  my  soul  deep  in  trouble, — 
For  the  mighty  are  low, 

And  abased  are  the  noble  : 

Oh  ! to  hear  my  true  love  singing, 

Sweet  as  sound  of  trumpets  ringing  • 
Like  the  sway  of  ocean  swelling 
Roll’d  his  deep  voice  round  our  dwelling. 

The  sons  of  the  Gael 
Are  in  exile  and  mourning, 
Worn,  weary,  and  pale, 

As  spent  pilgrims  returning  ; 

Oh  ! to  hear  the  echoes  pealing 
Round  our  green  and  fairy  sheeling, 
When  the  three,  with  soaring  chorus, 
Pass’d  the  silent  skylark  o’er  us. 

Or  men  who,  in  flight 
From  the  field  of  disaster, 
Beseech  the  black  night 
On  their  flight  to  fall  faster ; 

Echo,  now  sleep,  morn  and  even — 
Lark  alone  enchant  the  heaven  ! — 
Ardan’s  lips  are  scant  of  breath, 
Neesa’s  tongue  is  cold  in  death. 

Or  seamen  aghast 
When  their  planks  gape  asunder, 
And  the  waves  fierce  and  fast 
Tumble  through  in  hoarse  thunder ; 

162  THE  POEMS  OF  SAMUEL  FERGUSON. 


Or  men  whom  we  see 
That  have  got  their  death-omen — 
Such  wretches  are  we 
In  the  chains  of  our  foemen ! 

Our  courage  is  fear, 

Our  nobility  vileness, 

Our  hope  is  despair, 

And  our  comeliness  foulness. 

Their  is  mist  ontrur  heads, 

And  a cloud  chill  and  hoary 
Of  black  sorrow,  sheds 
An  eclipse  on  our  glory. 

From  Boyne  to  the  Linn 
Has  the  mandate  been  given, 

That  the  children  of  Finn 
From  their  country  be  driven. 

That  the  sons  of  the  king — 

Oh,  the  treason  and  malice  ! — 
Shall  no  more  ride  the  ring 
In  their  own  native  valleys  ; 

No  more  shall  repair 
Where  the  hill  foxes  tarry, 

Nor  forth  to  the  air 
Fling  the  hawk  at  her  quarry, 

For  the  plain  shall  be  broke 
By  the  share  of  the  stranger, 

And  the  stone-mason’s  stroke 
Tell  the  woods  of  their  danger  ; 

The  green  hills  and  shore 
Be  with  white  keeps  disfigured, 
And  the  Mote  of  Rath  more 
Be  the  Saxon  churl’s  haggard  ! 

The  land  of  the  lakes 
Shall  no  more  know  the  prospect 
Of  valleys  and  brakes — 

So  transform’d  is  her  aspect ! 

The  Grael  cannot  tell, 

In  the  uprooted  wildwood 
And  red  ridgy  dell, 

The  old  nurse  of  his  childhood  : 


The  nurse  of  his  youth 
Is  in  doubt  as  she  views  him, 

If  the  wan  wretch,  in  truth, 

Be  the  child  of  her  bosom. 

We  starve  by  the  board, 

And  we  thirst  amid  wassail — 

For  the  guest  is  the  lord, 

And  the  host  is  the  vassal ! 

Through  the  woods  let  us  roam, 
Through  the  wastes  wild  and  barren ; 

We  are  strangers  at  home  ! 

We  are  exiles  in  Erin  ! 

And  Erin’s  a bark 
O’er  the  wide  waters  driven  ! 

And  the  tempest  howls  dark, 

And  her  side  planks  are  riven  ! 

And  in  billows  of  might 
Swell  the  Saxon  before  her, — 

Unite,  oh,  unite  ! 

Or  the  billows  burst  o’er  her  ! 


O'BYRNE'S  BARD  TO  THE 
CLANS  OF  WICKLOW. 

H^OD  be  with  the  Irish  host, 
if||  Never  be  their  battle  lost ! 
For,  in  battle,  never  yet 
Have  they  basely  earn’d  defeat. 

Host  of  armor  red  and  bright, 

May  ye  fight  a valiant  fight  ! 

For  the  green  spot  of  the  earth, 

For  the  land  that  gave  you  birth. 

Who  in  Erin’s  cause  would  stand, 
Brothers  of  the  avenging  band, 

He  must  wed  immortal  quarrel, 

Pain  and  sweat  and  bloody  peril. 

On  the  mountain  bare  and  steep, 
Snatching  short  but  pleasant  sleep, 
Then,  ere  sunrise,  from  his  eyrie, 
Swooping  on  the  Saxon  quarry. 


’Tis  time  to  make  our  flight 
When  neighbor  steals  on  neighbor  thus, 
And  stabbers  strike  by  night. 

“ And  black  and  bloody  the  revenge 
For  this  dark  midnight’s  sake 
The  kindred  of  my  murder’d  friends 
On  thine  and  thee  will  take, 

Unless  thou  rise  and  fly  betimes, 
Unless  thou  fly  with  me, 

Sweet  Una,  from  this  land  of  crimes 
To  peace  beyond  the  sea. 


u For  trustful  pillows  wait  us  there, 
And  loyal  friends  beside, 

my 


Where  the  broad  lands  of 


father 


are. 


Upon  the  banks  of  Clyde. 

In  five  days  hence  a ship  will  be 
Bound  for  that  happy  home ; 
Till  then  we’ll  make  our  sanctuary 
In  sea-cave's  sparry  dome. 

Then  busk  thee,  Una  Phelimy, 
And  o’er  the  waters  come  ! ” 


The  midnight  moon  is  wading  deep, 
The  land  sends  off  the  gale, 

The  boat  beneath  the  sheltering  steep 
Hangs  on  a seaward  sail ; 

And,  leaning  o’er  the  weather  rail, 
The  lovers,  hand  in  hand, 

Take  their  last  look  of  Innisfail — 

“ Farewell,  doom’d  Ireland  ! ” 

u And  art  thou  doomed  to  discord  still  1 
And  shall  thy  sons  ne’er  cease 


To  search  and  struggle  for  thine  ill, 
Ne’er  share  thy  good  in  peace  ? 
Already  do  thy  mountains  feel 
Avenging  Heaven’s  ire  ; 

Hark — hark — this  is  no  thunder  peal, 
That  was  no  lightning  fire  ! ” 

It  was  no  fire  from  heaven  he  saw, 
For,  far  from  hill  and  dell, 

O’er  Gobbin’s  brow  the  mountain  flaw 
Bears  musket- shot  and  yell, 

And  shouts  of  brutal  glee,  that  tell 
A foul  and  fearful  tale, 

While  over  blast  and  breaker  swell 
Thin  shrieks  and  woman’s  wail. 

Now  fill  they  far  the  upper  sky, 

Now  down  ’mid  air  they  go, 

The  frantic  scream,  the  piteous  cry, 
The  groan  of  rage  and  woe  ; 

And  wilder  in  their  agony 

And  shriller  still  they  grow — 

Now  cease  they,  choking  suddenly, 
The  waves  boom  on  below. 


“ A bloody  and  a black  revenge  ! 

Oh,  Una,  bless’d  are  we 
Who  this  sore-troubled  land  can  change 
For  peace  beyond  the  sea  ; 

But  for  the  manly  hearts  and  true 
That  Antrim  still  retain, 

Or  be  their  banner  green  or  blue, 

For  all  that  there  remain, 

God  grant  them  quiet  freedom  too, 
And  blithe  homes  soon  again  ! ” 


e o h;  i ( h 

OF 


H\I&» 
W' ^ 


Wl  LLijRCP  • JrlLLi 


THE  WINDING  BANKS  OF 
ERNE; 

OR,  THE  EMIGRANT’S  ADIEU  TO  BALLY- 
SHANNON. 

(A  LOCAL  BALLAD.) 

DIEU  to  Ballyshannon ! where  I 


/\ 

fV 

ShV'' 


Avas  bred  and  born 


Go  where  I 


may. 


I’ll  think  of 


sure  as  night  and  morn, 


you, 


as 


The  kindly  spot,  the  friendly  tOAvn, 
where  every  one  is  known, 

And  not  a face  in  all  the  place  but  part- 
ly seems  my  own : 

There’s  not  a house  or  window,  there’s  not 
a field  or  hill, 

But,  east  or  west,  in  foreign  lands,  I’ll 
recollect  them  still. 

I leave  my  warm  heart  with  you,  though 
my  back  I’m  forced  to  turn — 

So  adieu  to  Ballyshannon,  and  the  wind- 
ing banks  of  Erne ! 

No  more  on  pleasant  evenings  we’ll 
saunter  do\\rn  the  Mall, 

When  the  trout  is  rising  to  the  fly,  the 
salmon  to  the  fall. 

The  boat  comes  straining  on  her  net,  and 
heavily  she  creeps : 

Cast  off,  cast  off! — she  feels  the  oars, 
and  to  her  berth  she  sweeps  ; 

Now  fore  and  aft  keep  hauling,  and 
gathering  up  the  clue, 

Till  a silver  wave  of  salmon  rolls  in 
among  the  crew. 


Then  they  may  sit,  with  pipes  a-lit,  and 
many  a joke  and  “ yarn  — 
Adieu  to  Ballyshannon,  and  the  winding 
banks  of  Erne  ! 


The  music  of  the  waterfall,  the  mirror 


of 


the  tide, 

When  all  the  green-hill’d  harbor  is  full 
from  side  to  side — 

From  Portnasun  to  Bulliebawns,  and 
round  the  Abbey  Bay, 

From  rocky  Inis  Saimer  to  Coolnargit 
sand-hills  gray ; 

While  far  upon  the  southern  line,  to 
guard  it  like  a Avail. 

The  Leitrim  mountains,  clothed  in  blue, 
gaze  calmly  o\Ter  all, 

And  watch  the  ship  sail  up  or  down,  the 
red  flag  at  her  stern  : — 

Adieu  to  these,  adieu  to  all  the  winding 
banks  of  Erne  ! 

Farewell  to  you,  Kildoney  lads,  and 
them  that  pull  an  oar, 

A lug-sail  set,  or  haul  a net,  from  the 
Point  to  Mullaghmore  ; 

From  Killybegs  to  bold  Slieve-League, 
that  ocean-mountain  steep, 

Six  hundred  yards  in  air  aloft,  six  hun- 
dred in  the  deep  ; 

From  Dooran  to  the  Fairy  Bridge,  and 
round  by  Tullen  strand, 

Level  and  long,  and  white  Avith  waves, 
where  gull  and  curlew  stand  ; 
Head  out  to  sea  when  on  your  lee  the 
breakers  you  discern  ! — 

Adieu  to  all  the  billoAA'y  coast,  and  Avind- 
i.'ir  banks  of  Erne  ! 


THE  POEMS  OF  WILLIAM  ALLINGHAM.  175 


Farewell  Coolmore, — Bundoran  ! and  ] 
your  summer  crowds  that  run 

From  inland  homes  to  see  with  joy  the 
Atlantic-setting  sun  : 

To  breathe  the  buoyant  salted  air,  and 
sport  among  the  waves  ; 

To  gather  shells  on  sandy  beach,  and 
tempt  the  gloomy  caves  ; 

To  watch  the  flowing,  ebbing  tide,  the 
boats,  the  crabs,  the  flsh  ; 

Young  men  and  maids  to  meet  and 
smile,  and  form  a tender  wish  ; 

The  sick  and  old  in  search  of  health,  for 
all  things  have  their  turn — 

And  I must  quit  my  native  shore,  and  the 
winding  banks  of  Erne  ! 

Farewell  to  every  white  cascade  from 
the  Harbor  to  Belleek, 

And  every  pool  where  fins  may  rest,  and 
ivy- shaded  creek  ; 

The  sloping  fields,  the  lofty  rocks,  where 
ash  and  holly  grow, 

The  one  split  yew-tree  gazing  on  the 
curving  flood  below ; 

The  Lough,  that  winds  through  islands 
under  Turaw  mountain  green  ; 

And  Castle  Caldwell’s  stretching  woods, 
with  tranquil  bays  between  ; 

And  Breesie  Hill,  and  many  a pond 
among  the  heath  and  fern, — 

For  I must  say  adieu — adieu  to  the 
winding  banks  of  Erne  ! 

The  thrush  will  call  through  Camlin 
groves  the  livelong  summer  day  ; 

The  waters  run  by  mossy  cliff,  and  bank 
with  wild-flowers  gay  ; 

The  girls  will  bring  their  work  and  sing 
beneath  a twisted  thorn, 

Or  stray  with  sweethearts  down  the  path 
among  the  growing  corn  ; 

Along  the  river  side  they  go,  where  I 
have  often  been, — 

Oh,  never  shall  I see  again  the  days 
that  I have  seen  ! 

A thousand  chances  are  to  one  I never 
may  return. — 


j Adieu  to  Ballyshannon,  and  the  winding 
banks  of  Erne  ! 

Adieu  to  evening  dances,  when  merry 
neighbors  meet, 

And  the  fiddle  says  to  boys  and  girls, 
“ Get  up  and  shake  your  feet  !” 

To  “shanachus”  and  wise  old  talk  of 
Erin’s  days  gone  by — 

Who  trench’d  the  rath  on  such  a hill,  and 
where  the  bones  may  lie 

Of  saint,  or  king,  or  warrior  chief ; with 
tales  of  fairy  power, 

And  tender  ditties  sweetly  sung  to  pass 
the  twilight  hour. 

The  mournful  song  of  exile  is  now  for 
me  to  learn — 

Adieu,  my  dear  companions  on  the  wind- 
ing banks  of  Erne  ! 

Now  measure  from  the  Commons  down 
to  each  end  of  the  Purt, 

Round  the  Abbey,  Moy,  and  Knather, — 
I wish  no  one  any  hurt ; 

The  Main  Street,  Back  Street,  College 
Lane,  the  Mall,  and  Portnasun, 

If  any  foes  of  mine  are  there,  I pardon 
every  one. 

I hope  that  man  and  womankind  will  do 
the  same  by  me  ; 

For  my  heart  is  sore  and  heavy  at 
voyaging  the  sea. 

My  loving  friends  I’ll  bear  in  mind,  and 
often  fondly  turn  . 

To  think  of  Ballyshannon,  and  the  wind- 
ing banks  of  Erne. 

If  ever  I’m  a money’d  man,  I mean, 
please  God,  to  cast 

My  golden  anchor  in  the  place  where 
youthful  years  were  pass’d  ; 

Though  heads  that  now  are  black  and 
brown  must  meanwhile  gather 
gray. 

New  faces  rise  by  every  hearth,  and  old 
ones  drop  away — 

Yet  dearer  still  that  Irish  hill  than  all  the 
world  beside  ; 


17G 


TIIE  POEMS  OF  WILLIAM  ALLINGHAM. 


It’s  home,  sweet  home,  where’er  I roam, 
through  lands  and  waters  wide, 
And  if  the  Lord  allows  me,  I surely  will 
return 

To  my  native  Ballyshannon,  and  the 
winding  banks  of  Erne. 


THE  ABBOT  OF  INNISF ALLEN 

(a  killarney  legend.) 

SpjP|HE  Abbot  of  Innisfallen 
Awoke  ere  dawn  of  day; 

Under  the  dewy  green  leaves 
Went  he  forth  to  pray. 

The  lake  around  his  island 

Lay  smooth  and  dark  and  deep  ; 

And  wrapt  in  a misty  stillness, 

The  mountains  were  all  asleep. 

Low  kneel’d  the  Abbot  Cormac, 

When  the  dawn  was  dim  and  gray  : 

The  prayers  of  his  holy  office 
He  faithfully  ’gan  say. 

Low  kneel’d  the  Abbot  Cormac, 

When  the  dawn  was  waxing  red  ; 

And  for  his  sins’  forgiveness 
A solemn  prayer  he  said  : 

Low  kneel’d  that  holy  Abbot, 

When  the  dawn  was  waxing  clear ; 

And  he  pray’d  with  loving-kindness 
For  his  convent-brethren  dear. 


Low  kneel’d  that  blessed  Abbot, 
When  the  dawn  was  waxing 
He  pray’d  a great  prayer  for  Ireland, 
He  pray’d  with  all  his  might. 


bright  ; 


Low  kneel’d  that  good  old  Father, 
While  the  sun  began  to  dart ; 

He  pray’d  a prayer  for  all  mankind, 
He  pray’d  it  from  his  heart. 

The  Abbot  of  Innisfallen 
Arose  upon  his  feet ; 


He  heard  a small  bird  singing, 

And  oh,  but  it  sung  sweet ! 

lie  heard  a white  bird  singing  well 
Within  a holly-tree ; 

A song  so  sweet  and  happy 
Never  before  heard  he. 

It  sung  upon  a hazel, 

It  sung  upon  a thorn  ; 

He  had  never  heard  such  music 
Since  the  hour  that  he  was  born. 

It  sung  upon  a sycamore, 

It  sung  upon  a brier  ; 

To  follow  the  song  and  hearken 
This  Abbot  could  never  tire. 


Till  at  last  he  well  bethought  him 
He  might  no  longer  stay  ; 

So  he  bless’d  the  little  white  singing  bird, 
And  gladly  went  his  way. 

But,  when  he  came  to  his  Abbey-walls, 
He  found  a wondrous  change ; 

He  saw  no  friendly  faces  there, 

For  every  face  was  strange. 

The  strange  men  spoke  unto  him  ; 

And  he  heard  from  all  and  each 
The  foreign  tongue  of  the  Sassenach, 

Not  wholesome  Irish  speech. 

Then  the  oldest  monk  came  forward, 

In  Irish  tongue  spake  he  : 

“ Thou  wearest  the  holy  Augustine’s 
dress, 

And  who  hath  given  it  to  thee  f ” 

“ I wear  the  holy  Augustine’s  dress, 

And  Cormac  is  my  name, 

The  Abbot  of  this  good  Abbey 
By  grace  of  God  I am. 

u I went  forth  to  pray,  at  break  of  day  ; 

And  when  my  prayers  were  said, 

I hearken’d  awhile  to  a little  bird, 

That  sung  above  my  head.’’ 


ojTfclP 

Poems  * 


®r 


— OF  — 


I 

I 

LEGENDS  AND  LYRICS. 


THE  PILLAR  TOWERS  OF 
IRELAND. 

i. 

IIHE  pillar  towers  of  Ireland,  how 

ties!  wondrously  they  stand 

By  the  lakes  and  rushing  rivers  through 
the  valleys  of  our  land  ; 

In  mystic  file,  through  the  isle,  they  lift 
their  heads  sublime, 

These  gray  old  pillar  temples — these 
conquerors  of  time  ! 

II. 

Beside  these  gray  old  pillars,  how  perish- 
ing and  weak 

The  Roman’s  arch  of  triumph,  and  the 
temple  of  the  Greek, 

And  the  gold  domes  of  Byzantium,  and 
the  pointed  Gothic  spires, 

All  are  gone,  one  by  one,  but  the  temples 
of  our  sires  ! 

in. 

The  column,  with  its  capital,  is  level 
with  the  dust, 


And  the  proud  halls  of  the  mighty,  and 
the  calm  homes  of  the  just ; 

For  the  proudest  works  of  man,  as  cer- 
tainly but  slower, 

Pass  like  the  grass  at  the  sharp  scythe 
of  the  mower ! 

IY. 

But  the  grass  grows  again  when  in  ma- 
jesty and  mirth, 

On  the  wing  of  the  Spring,  comes  the 
goddess  of  the  Earth  : 

But  for  man  in  this  world  no  spring-tide 
e’er  returns 

To  the  labors  of  his  hands  or  the  ashes 
of  his  urns  ! 

Y. 

To  favorites  hath  Time — the  pyramids 
of  Nile, 

And  the  old  mystic  temples  of  our  own 
dear  isle ; 

As  the  breeze  o’er  the  seas,  where  the 
halcyon  has  its  nest, 

Thus  Time  o’er  Egypt’s  tombs  and  the 
temples  of  the  West ! 


180  THE  POEMS  OF  DENIS 


VI. 

The  names  of  their  founders  have  vanished 
in  the  gloom, 

Like  the  dry  branch  in  the  fire  or  the 
body  in  the  tomb  ; 

But  to-day,  in  the  ray,  their  shadows  still 
they  cast — 

These  temples  are  forgotten  gods — these 
relies  of  the  past ! 

VII. 

Around  these  walls  have  wandered  the 
Briton  and  the  Dane — 

The  captives  of  Armorica,  the  cavaliers 
of  Spain — 

Phoenician  and  Milesian,  and  the  plunder- 
ing Norman  Peers — 

And  the  swordsmen  of  brave  Brian,  and 
the  chiefs  of  later  years  ! 

VIII. 

How  many  different  rites  have  these  gray 
old  temples  known  ! 

To  the  mind  what  dreams  are  written  in 
these  chronicles  of  stone  ! 

What  terror  and  what  error,  what  gleams 
of  love  and  truth, 

Have  flashed  from  these  walls  since  the 
world  was  in  its  youth  ! 

IX. 

Here  blazed  the  sacred  fire,  and  when  the 
sun  was  gone, 

As  a star  from  afar  to  the  traveller  it 
shone ; 

And  the  warm  blood  of  the  victim  have 
these  gray  old  temples  drunk, 

And  the  death- song  of  the  Druid  and  the 
matin  of  the  Monk. 

X. 

Here  was  placed  the  holy  chalice  that  held 
the  sacred  wine, 

And  the  gold  cross  from  the  altar,  and  the 
relics  from  the  shrine, 


FLORENCE  McCARTHY. 


And  the  mitre,  shining  brighter  with  its 
diamonds  than  the  East, 

And  the  crozier  of  the  Pontiff  and  the 
vestments  of  the  Priest ! 

XI. 

Where  blazed  the  sacred  fire,  rung  out 
the  vesper-bell, — 

Where  the  fugitive  found  shelter,  became 
the  hermit’s  cell; 

And  hope  hung  out  its  symbol  to  the  in- 
nocent and  good, 

For  the  Cross  o’er  the  moss  of  the  pointed 
summit  stood ! 


XII. 

There  may  it  stand  forever,  while  this 
symbol  doth  impart 

To  the  mind  one  glorious  vision,  or  one 
proud  throb  to  the  heart ; 

While  the  beast  needeth  rest  may  these 
gray  old  temples  last, 

Bright  prophets  of  the  future,  as  preach- 
ers of  the  past ! 


THE  LAY  MISSIONER, 

A D I a wish — ’twere  this:  that 

Heaven  would  make 

My  heart  as  strong  to  imitate  as  love, 

That  half  its  weakness  it  could  leave, 
and  take 

Some  spirit’s  strength,  by  which  to  soar 
above  ; 

A lordly  eagle  mated  with  a dove — 

Strong  will  and  warm  affection,  these  be 
mine  : 

Without  the  one  no  dreams  has  fancy 
wove, 

Without  the  other  soon  these  dreams  de- 
cline, 

Weak  children  of  the  heart,  which  fade 
away  and  pine  ! 


THE  POEMS  OF  DENIS  FLORENCE  McOAKTHY.  203 


For  a Son  of  this  World,  and  an  heir  to 
the  King 

Who  rules  over  man,  is  this  beautiful 
Spring. 

III. 

0 Kathleen,  methought,  when  the  bright 
babe  was  born, 

More  lovely  than  morning  appeared  the 
bri  ght  morn  ; 

The  birds  sang  more  sweetly,  the  grass 
greener  grew, 

And  with  buds  and  with  blossoms  the  old 
trees  looked  new  ; 

And  methought  when  the  Priest  of  the 
Universe  came — 

The  Sun,  in  his  vestments  of  glory  and 
flame — 

He  was  seen  the  warm  rain- drops  of 
April  to  fling 

On  the  brow  of  the  babe,  and  baptize 
him  The  Spring  ! 

IV. 

O Kathleen,  dear  Kathleen  ! what  treas- 
ures are  piled 

In  the  mines  of  the  Past  for  this  wonder- 
ful Child  ! 

The  lore  of  the  sages,  the  lays  of  the 
bards, 

Like  a primer,  the  eye  of  this  infant  re- 
gards ; 

All  the  dearly-bought  knowledge  that 
cost  life  and  limb, 

Without  price,  without  peril,  are  offered 
to  him  ; 

And  the  blithe  bee  of  Progress  eonceal- 
eth  its  sting  ! 

As  it  offers  its  sweets  to  this  beautiful 
Spring  ! 

v. 

O Kathleen,  they  tell  us  of  wonderful 
things, 

Of  speed  that  surpasseth  the  fairy’s 
fleet  wings  ; 


j How  the  lands  of  the  world  in  commun- 
ion are  brought, 

| And  the  slow  march  of  speech  is  as  rap- 
id as  thought. 

Think,  think  what  an  heir-loom  the 
great  world  will  be, 

With  this  wonderful  wire  ’neath  the 
Earth  and  the  Sea  : 

When  the  snows  and  the  sunshine  to- 
gether shall  bring 

All  the  wealth  of  the  world  to  the  feet  of 
the  Spring. 

VI. 

O Kathleen,  but  think  of  the  birth-gifts 
of  love, 

That  The  Master  who  lives  in  the 
Great  House  above, 

Prepares  for  the  poor  child  that’s  born 
on  His  land — 

Dear  God ! they’re  the  sweet  flowers 
that  fall  from  Thy  hand — 

The  crocus,  the  primrose,  the  violet  given 

Awhile,  to  make  Earth  the  reflection  of 
Heaven  ; 

The  brightness  and  lightness  that  round 
the  world  wing 

Are  Thine,  and  are  ours,  too,  through 
thee,  happy  Spring  ! 

VII. 

O Kathleen,  dear  Kathleen  ! that  dream 
is  gone  by, 

And  I wake  once  again,  but,  thank  God  ! 
thou  art  by ; 

And  the  land  that  we  love  looks  as 
bright  in  the  beam, 

Just  as  if  my  sweet  dream  was  not  all 
out  a dream  : 

The  spring-tide  of  Nature  its  blessing 
imparts — 

Let  the  spring-tide  of  Hope  send  its 
pulse  through  our  hearts  ; 

Let  us  feel  ’tis  a mother,  to  whose 
breast  we  cling, 

And  a brother  we  hail,  when  we  welcome 
the  Spring. 


VERT-VERT,  THE  PARROT. 

FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF  THE  JESUIT 
CRESSET. 

(Original  ijnnocrncr. 

LAS  ! what  evils  I discern  in 
Too  great  an  aptitude  for  learning ! 
And  fain  would  all  the  ills  unravel 
That  aye  ensue  from  foreign  travel ; 

Far  happier  is  the  man  who  tarries 
Quiet  within  his  household  “ Lares  : ” 
Read,  and  you’ll  find  how  virtue  vanishes, 
How  foreign  vice  all  goodness  banishes, 
And  how  abroad  young  heads  will  grow 
dizzy, 

Proved  in  the  underwritten  Odyssey. 

In  old  Nevers,  so  famous  for  its 
Dark  narrow  streets,  and  Gothic  turrets, 
Close  on  the  brink  of  Loire’s  young  flood, 
Flourished  a convent  sisterhood 
Of  Ursulines.  Now  in  this  order 
A parrot  lived  as  parlor-boarder ; 
Brought  in  his  childhood  from  the  An- 
tilles, 

Arid  sheltered  under  convent  mantles  : 
Green  were  his  feathers,  green  his  pin- 
ions, 


And  greener  still  were  his  opinions  ; 

For  vice  had  not  yet  sought  to  pervert 
This  bird,  who  had  been  christened  Vert- 
Vert, 

Nor  could  the  wicked  world  defile  him, 
Safe  from  its  snares  in  this  asylum. 
Fresh,  in  his  teens,  frank,  gay,  and 
gracious, 

And,  to  crown  all,  somewhat  loquacious  ; 
If  we  examine  close,  not  one,  or  he, 

Had  a vocation  for  a nunnery. 

The  convent’s  kindness  need  I mention  ? 
Need  I detail  each  fond  attention, 

Or  count  the  tit-bits  which  in  Lent  he 
Swallowed  remorseless  and  in  plenty  ? 
Plump  was  his  carcass;  no,  not  higher 
Fed  was  their  confessor,  the  friar ; 

And  some  even  say  that  our  young  Hec- 
tor 

Was  far  more  loved  than  the  “ Director.” 
Dear  to  each  novice  and  each  nun — 

He  was  the  life  and  soul  of  fun  ; 

Though,  to  be  sure,  some  hags  censor- 
ious 

Would  sometimes  find  him  too  uproarious. 
What  did  the  parrot  care  for  those  old 
Dames,  while  he  had  for  him  the  house- 
hold I 

He  had  not  yet  made  his  11  profession,” 


REV.  FRANCIS  MAHONEY  (Father  Prout). 


THE  POEMS  OF  FRANCIS  MAHONY.  205 


Nor  come  to  years  called  u of  discretion 
Therefore,  unblamed,  he  ogled,  flirted, 
And  romped  like  any  unconverted  ; 

Nay  sometimes,  too,  by  the  Lord  Harry  ! 
He’d  pull  their  caps  and  “ seapulary.” 

| But  what  in  all  his  tricks  seemed  oddest, 
Was  that  at  times  he’d  turn  so  modest, 
That  to  all  bystanders  the  wight 
Appeared  a finished  hypocrite. 

In  accent  he  did  not  resemble 

Kean,  though  he  had  the  tones  of  Kemble ; 

But  fain  to  do  the  sisters’  biddings, 

He  left  the  stage  to  Mrs.  Siddons. 

Poet,  historian,  judge,  financier, 

Four  problems  at  a time  he’d  answer 
He  had  a faculty  like  Caesar’s. 

Lord  Althorp,  baffling  all  his  teazers, 
Could  not  surpass  Vert- Vert  in  puzzling, 
“ Goodrich  ” to  him  was  but  a gosling. 

| Placed  when  at  table  near  some  vestal, 
His  fare,  be  sure,  was  of  the  best  all, — 
For  every  sister  would  endeavor 
To  keep  for  him  some  sweet  hors  (V oeuvre. 
j Kindly  at  heart,  in  spite  of  vows  and 
Cloisters,  a nun  is  worth  a thousand  ! 
And  aye,  if  Heaven  would  only  lend  her, 
I’d  have  a nun  for  a nurse  tender  ! 

Then,  when  the  shades  of  night  would 
come  on, 

And  to  their  cells  the  sisters  summon, 
Happy  the  favored  one  whose  grotto 
I This  sultan  of  a bird  would  trot  to  : 

' Mostly  the  young  ones’  cells  he  toyed  in 
(The  aged  sisterhood  avoiding), 

Sure  among  all  to  find  kind  offices, — 
Still  he  was  partial  to  the  novices, 

And  in  their  cells  our  anchorite 
Mostly  cast  anchor  for  the  night ; 

Perched  on  the  box  that  held  the  relics, 
he 

Slept  without  notion  of  indelicacy. 

Rare  was  his  luck ; nor  did  he  spoil  it 
By  flying  from  the  morning  toilet ; 

Not  that  I can  admit  the  fitness 
Of  (at  the  toilet)  a male  witness  ; 

But  that  I scruple  in  this  history 
To  shroud  a single  fact  in  mystery. 


Quick  at  all  arts,  our  bird  was  rich  at 
That  best  accomplishment,  called  chit- 
chat ; 

For,  though  brought  up  within  the  clois- 
ter, 

His  beak  was  not  closed  like  an  oyster, 
But,  trippingly,  without  a stutter, 

The  longest  sentences  would  utter  ; 

Pious  withal,  and  moralizing 
His  conversation  was  surprising  ; 

None  of  your  equivoques,  no  slander — 
To  such  vile  tastes  he  scorned  to  pander; 
But  his  tongue  ran  most  smooth  and  nice 
on 

11  Deo  sit  laus  ” and  “ Kyrie  eleison  ; ” 
The  maxims  he  gave  with  best  emphasis 
Were  Suarez’s  or  Thomas  a Kempis’s  ; 

In  Christmas  carols  he  was  famous, 
u Orate,  fratres,”  and  Oremus  ; ” 

If  in  good  humor,  he  was  wont 
To  give  a stave  from  u Think  well  on’t 
Or,  by  particular  desire,  he 
Would  chant  the  hymn  of  “ Dies  irse.” 
Then  in  the  choir  he  would  amaze  all 
By  copying  the  tone  so  nasal 
In  which  the  sainted  sisters  chanted — 
(At  least  that  pious  nun  my  aunt  did). 

lit)#  fatal!  Itcttoumc. 

The  public  soon  began  to  ferret 
The  hidden  nest  of  so  much  merit, 

And,  spite  of  all  the  nuns’  endeavors, 

The  fame  of  Vert-Vert  filled  all  Nevers  ; 
Nay,  from  Moulines  folks  came  to  stare  at 
The  wondrous  talent  of  this  parrot ; 

And  to  fresh  visitors  ad  libitum 
Sister  Sophie  had  to  exhibit  him. 

Drest  in  her  tidiest  robes,  the  virgin, 
Forth  from  the  convent  cells  emerging, 
Brings  the  bright  bird,  and  for  his  plum- 
age 

First  challenges  unstinted  homage  ; 

Then  to  his  eloquonce  adverts, — 

“What  preacher’s  can  surpass  Vert- 
Vert’s  ? 

Truly  in  oratory  few  men, 

Equal  this  learned  catechumen  ; 


200  THE  POEMS  OF  FRANCIS  MAHONY. 


Fraught  with  the  convent’s  choicest  les- 
sons, 

And  stuffed  with  piety’s  quintessence  ; 

A bird  most  quick  of  apprehension, 

With  gifts  and  graces  hard  to  mention  : 
Say  in  what  pulpit  can  you  meet 
A Chrysostom  half  so  discreet, 

Who’d  follow  in  his  ghostly  mission 
So  close  the  ‘ fathers  and  tradition  ? ’ ” 
Silent  meantime,  the  feathered  hermit 
Waits  for  the  sister’s  gracious  permit, 
When,  at  a signal  from  his  mentor, 
Quick  on  a course  of  speech  he’ll  enter  $ 
Not  that  he  cares  for  human  glory, 

Bent  but  to  save  his  auditory  ; 

Hence  he  pours  forth  with  so  much  unc- 
tion 

That  all  his  hearers  feel  compunction. 

Thus  for  a time  did  Vert-Vert  dwell 
Safe  in  his  holy  citadelle  ; 

Scholared  like  any  well-bred  abbe, 

And  loved  by  many  a cloistered  Hebe  ; 
You’d  swear  that  he  had  crossed  the 
same  bridge 

As  any  youth  brought  up  in  Cambridge. 
Other  monks  starve  themselves ; but  his 
skin 

Was  sleek  like  that  of  a Franciscan, 

And  far  more  clean  ; for  this  grave  Solon 
Bathed  every  day  in  eau  de  Cologne. 
Thus  he  indulged  each  guiltless  gambol, 
Blessed  had  he  ne’er  been  doomed  to 
ramble  ! 

For  in  his  life  there  came  a crisis 
Such  as  for  all  great  men  arises, — 

Such  as  what  Nap  to  Russia  led, 

Such  as  the  “ flight”  of  Mahomed  ; 

O town  of  Nantz  ! yes,  to  thy  bosom 
We  let  him  go,  alas  ! to  lose  him  ! 

Edicts , 0 town  famed  for  revoking. 

Still  was  Vert- Vert’s  loss  more  provoking ! 
Dark  be  the  day  when  our  bright  Don 
went 

From  this  to  a far-distant  convent ! 

Two  words  comprise  that  awful  era- 
Words  big  with  fate  and  woe — “ II  ira  ! ' 


Yes,  u he  shall  go  ; ” but,  sisters  ! mourn 
ye 

The  dismal  fruits  of  that  sad  journey, — 
Ills  on  which  Nantz’s  nuns  ne’er  reckoned, 
When  for  the  beauteous  bird  they 
beckoned. 

Fame,  O Vert-Vert!  in  evil  humor, 

One  day  to  Nantz  had  brought  the  rumor 
Of  thy  accomplishments, — “ acumen,” 

“ Nooq  ” and  u esprit ,”  quite  super- 
human : 

All  these  reports  but  served  to  enhance 
Thy  merits  with  the  nuns  of  Nantz. 

How  did  a matter  so  unsuited 
For  convent  ears  get  hither  bruited  ? 

Some  may  inquire.  But  u nuns  are 
knowing,” 

“ A nd  first  to  hear  ivliat  gossip's  going.” 
Forthwith  they  taxed  their  wits  to  elicit 
From  the  famed  bird  a friendly  visit. 
Girls’  wishes  run  in  a brisk  current, 

But  a nun’s  fancy  is  a torrent ; 

To  get  this  bird  they’d  pawn  the 
missal ; 

Quick  they  indite  a long  epistle, 

Careful  with  softest  things  to  till  it, 

And  then  with  musk  perfume  the  billet ; 
Thus,  to  obtain  their  darling  purpose, 
They  send  a writ  of  habeas  corpus. 

Off  goes  the  post.  When  will  the  answer 
Free  them  from  doubt’s  corroding  cancer  ? 
Nothing  can  equal  their  anxiety, 

Except,  of  course,  their  well-known 
piety. 

Tilings  at  Nevers  meantime  went  harder 
Than  well  would  suit  such  pious  ardor  ; 

It  was  no  easy  job  to  coax 
This  parrot  from  the  Nevers  folks. 

What,  take  their  toy  from  convent  belles  ? | 
Make  Russia  yield  the  Dardanelles  ! 

Filch  his  good  rifle  from  a “ Suliote,” 

Or  drag  her  “ Romeo  ” from  a “Juliet  ” ! 
Make  an  attempt  to  take  Gibraltar, 

Or  try  the  old  corn  laws  to  alter  ! 

This  seemed  to  them  and  eke  to  us 
Most  wasteful  and  ridiculous.” 


SCENE  AT  GOUGANE  BARRE. 


THE 


J.  J.  CALLANAN. 


THE  REVENGE  OF 
COMM. 


DONAL 


IS  midnight,  and  November’s  gale 
Sweeps  hoarsely  down  Glengar- 
av’s  vale, 

Through  the  thick  rain  its  fitful  tone 
Shrieks  like  a troubled  spirit’s  moan, 
The  Moon  that  from  her  cloud  at  eve 
Look’d  down  on  Ocean’s  gentle  heave, 
And  bright  on  lake  and  mountain  shone, 
Now  wet  and  darkling  journeys  on  ; 
From  the  veil’d  heaven  there  breaks  no 
ray 

To  guide  the  traveller  on  his  way, 

Save  when  the  lightning  gilds  awhile 
The  craggy  peak  of  Sliav-na-goil, 

Or  its  far-streaming  flashes  fall 
Upon  Glengarav’s  mountain  wall. 

And  kindles  with  its  angry  streak 
The  rocky  zone  it  may  not  break. 

At  times  is  heard  the  distant  roar 
Of  billows  warring  ’gainst  the  shore  ; 
And  rushing  from  their  native  hills, 

The  voices  of  a thousand  rills 
Come  shouting  down  the  mountain’s  side, 
When  the  deep  thunder’s  peal  hath  died. 
How  fair  at  sunset  to  the  view 
On  its  loved  rock  the  Arbutus  grew  ! 
How  motionless  the  heather  lay 
In  the  deep  gorge  of  that  wild  bay  ! 
Through  the  tall  forest  not  a breeze 
Disturb’d  the  silence  of  the  trees  ; 


O’er  the  calm  scene  their  foliage  red 
A venerable  glory  shed, 

And  sad  and  sombre  beauty  gave 
To  the  wild  hill  and  peaceful  wave. 

To-morrow’s  early  dawn  will  find 
That  beauty  scatter’d  on  the  wind  ; 
To-morrow’s  sun  will  journey  on 
And  see  the  forest’s  glory  gone — 

The  Arbutus  shiver’d  on  the  rock 
Beneath  the  tempest’s  angry  shock, 

The  monarch  Oak  all  scathed  and  riven 
By  the  red  arrowy  bolt  of  heaven  ; 
While  not  a leaf  remains  behind, 

Save  some  lone  mourner  of  its  kind, 
Wither’d  and  drooping  on  its  bough, 
Like  him  who  treads  that  valley  now. 

Alone  he  treads — still  on  the  blast 
The  sheeted  rain  is  driving  fast, 

And  louder  peals  the  thunder’s  crash, 
Louder  the  ocean’s  distant  dash — 

Amid  the  elemental  strife 
He  walks  as  wreckless,  as  if  life 
Were  but  a debt  he’d  freely  pay 
To  the  next  flash  that  cross’d  his  way  : 
Yet  is  there  something  in  his  air 
Of  purpose  firm  that  mocks  despair  ; 
What  that,  and  whither  he  would  go 
Through  storm  and  darkness,  none  may 
know ; 

But  his  unerring  steps  can  tell, 

There’s  not  a deer  in  that  wild  dell 
Can  track  its  mazy  depths  so  well. 


246  THE  POEMS  OF  J.  J.  CAL  LAN  AN. 


He  gains  the  shore — his  whistle  shrill 
Is  answer’d — ready  at  his  will  ; 

In  a small  cove  his  pinnace  lay — 

11  Weigh  quick,  my  lads,  I cross  the 
bay.” 

No  question  ask  they,  but  a cheer 
Proclaims  their  bosoms  know  not  fear. 
Sons  of  the  mountain  and  the  wave, 
They  shrink  not  from  a billowy  grave. 
Those  hearts  have  oft  braved  death  be- 
fore, 

’Mid  Erin’s  rocks  and  Biscay’s  roar  ; 
Each  lightly  holds  the  life  he  draws, 

If  it  but  serve  his  Chieftain’s  cause  ; 

And  thinks  his  toil  full  well  he  pays, 

If  he  bestow  one  word  of  praise. 

At  length  they’ve  clear’d  the*  nari’ow 
bay — 

Up  with  the  sails,  away  ! away  ! 

O’er  the  broad  surge  she  flies  as  fleet 
As  on  the  tempest’s  wing  the  sleet. 

And  fearless  as  the  sea-bird’s  motion 
Across  his  own  wild  fields  of  ocean. 
Though  winds  may  wave  and  seas  o’er- 
whelm, 

There  is  a hand  upon  that  helm 
That  can  control  its  trembling  power, 
And  quits  it  not  in  peril’s  hour ; 

Full  frequently  from  sea  to  sky 
That  Chieftain  looks  with  anxious  eye, 
But  naught  can  be  distinguish’d  there 
More  desperate  than  his  heart’s  despair. 

On  yonder  shore  what  means  that  light 
That  flings  its  murky  flame  through 
night  ? 

Along  the  margin  of  the  ocean 
It  moves  with  slow  and  measured  motion. 
Another  follows,  and  behind 
Are  torches  flickering  in  the  wind. 

Hark  ! heard  you  on  the  dying  gale 
F rom  yonder  cliffs  the  voice  of  wail  ? 
’Twas  but  the  tempest’s  moaning  sigh, 
Or  the  wild  sea-bird’s  lonely  cry. 

Hush  ! there  again — I know  it  well, 

It  is  the  sad  Ululla’s  swell, 

That  mingles  with  the  death-bell’s  toll 
Its  grief  for  some  departed  soul. 


i Inver-na-marc,  thy  rugged  shore 
Is  alter’d  since  the  days  of  yore, 

Where  once  ascending  from  the  town 
A narrow  path  look’d  fearful  down, 

O’er  the  bleak  cliffs  which  wildly  gave 
Their  rocky  bosom  to  the  wave. 

A beauteous  and  unri vail’d  sweep 
Of  beach  extends  along  the  deep  ; 

Above  is  seen  a sloping  plain, 

With  princely  house  and  fair  domain, 
Where  erst  the  deer  from  covert  (Jark 
Gazed  wildly  on  the  anchor’d  bark, 

Or  listen’d  the  deep  copse  among 
To  hear  the  Spanish  seaman’s  song 
Come  sweetly  floating  up  the  bay, 

With  the  last  purple  gleam  of  day. — 

All  changed,  even  yon  projecting  steep 
That  darkly  bends  above  the  deep, 

And  mantles  with  its  joyless  shade 
The  waste  that  man  and  time  have  made. 
There,  ’mid  its  tall  and  circling  wood, 

In  olden  times  an  abbey  stood  : 

It  stands  no  more — no  more  at  even 
The  vesper  hymn  ascends  to  Heaven  ; 
No  more  the  sound  of  Matin  bell 
Calls  forth  each  father  from  his  cell, 

Or  breaks  upon  the  sleeping  ear 
Of  Leim-a-tagart’s  mountaineer, 

And  bids  him  on  his  purpose  pause, 

Ere  yet  the  foraying  brand  he  draws. 

Where  are  they  now  ? Go  climb  that 
height, 

Whose  depth  of  shade  yields  scanty  light, 
Where  the  dark  alders  droop  their  head 
O’er  Ard-na-mrahar’s  countless  dead, 

| And  nettle  tall  and  hemlock  waves 
In  rank  luxuriance  o’er  the  graves  ; 
There  fragments  of  the  sculptured  stone, 
Still  sadly  speak  of  grandeur  gone. 

And  point  the  spot,  where  dark  and 
deep 

The  fathers  and  their  abbey  sleep. 

That  train  hath  reach’d  the  abbey  ground, 
The  flickering  lights  are  ranged  around, 
And  resting  on  the  bier, 

Amid  the  attendants’  broken  sighs, 

And  pall’d  with  black,  the  coffin  lies  ; 
The  Monks  are  kneeling  near. 


THE  POEMS  OF  J.  J.  CALL  AN  AN 


247 


The  abbot  stands  above  the  dead, 

With  gray  and  venerable  head, 

And  sallow  cheek  and  pale. 

The  Miserere  hymn  ascends, 

And  its  deep  solemn  sadness  blends 
With  the  hoarse  and  moaning  gale. 
The  last  “ Amen”  was  breathed  by  all, 
And  now  they  had  removed  the  pall, 
And  up  the  coffin  rear’d  ; 

When  astern  u Hold  !”  was  heard  aloud, 
And  wildly  bursting  through  the  crowd, 
A frantic  form  appear’d. 

He  paused  awhile  and  gasp’d  for  breath  : 
His  look  had  less  of  life  than  death, 

He  seem’d  as  from  the  grave — 

So'  all  unearthly  was  his  tread  ; 

And  high  above  his  stately  head 
A sable  plume  did  wave. 

Clansmen  and  fathers  look’d  aghast : 

But  when  the  first  surprise  was  past, 

Yet  louder  rose  their  grief ; 

For  when  he  stood  above  the  dead, 

And  took  the  bonnet  from  his  head, 

All  knew  Ivera’s  Chief  ; 

No  length  of  time  could  e’er  erase, 

Once  seen,  that  Chieftain’s  form  and  face. 
Calmly  he  stood  amid  their  gaze, 

While  the  red  torches’  shifting  blaze, 

As  strong  it  flicker’d  in  the  breeze, 

That  wildly  raved  among  the  trees, 

Its  fitful  light  upon  him  threw, 

And  Donal  Comm  stood  full  to  view. 

His  form  was  tall,  but  not  the  height 
Which  seems  unwieldly  to  the  sight  ; 

His  mantle,  as  it  backward  flow’d, 

An  ample  breadth  of  bosom  show’d  ; 

His  sabre’s  girdle  round  his  waist 
A golden  buckle  tightly  braced  ; 

A close-set  trews  display’d  a frame 
You  could  not  all  distinctly  name 
If  it  had  more  of  strength  or  grace  ; 

But  when  the  light  fell  on  his  face, 

The  dullest  eye  beheld  a man 
Fit  to  be  Chieftain  of  his  clan. 

His  cheek,  though  pale,  retain’d  the  hue 
Which  from  Iberian  blood  it  drew  ; 

His  sharp  and  well-form’d  features  bore 


Strong  semblance  to  his  sires  of  yore; 
Calm,  grave,  and  dignified,  his  eye 
Had  an  expression  proud  and  high, 

And  in  its  darkness  dwelt  a flame 
Which  not  even  grief  like  his  could  tame  ; 
Above  his  bent  brow’s  sad  repose, 

A high  heroic  forehead  rose, — - 
But  o’er  its  calm  you  mark’d  the  cloud 
That  wrapp’d  his  spirit  in  its  shroud  ; 
His  clustering  locks  of  sable  hue, 

Upon  the  tempest  wildly  flew. 

Unreck’d  by  him  the  storm  may  blow  ; 
His  feelings  are  with  her  below. 

u Remove  the  lid,”  at  length  he  cried. 
None  stirr’d,  they  thought  it  strange  ; 
beside, 

Her  kinsman  mutter’d  something — 
u Haste, 

I have  not  breath  or  time  to  waste 
In  parley  now — Ivera’s  chief 
May  be  permitted  one,  last,  brief 
Farewell  with  her  he  loved,  and  then, 
Eva  is  yours  and  earth’s  again.” 

At  length,  reluctant  they  obey’d  : 

Slowly  he  turn’d  aside  his  head, 

And  press’d  his  hand  against  his  brow — 
’Tis  done  at  last,  he  knows  not  how  ; 

But  when  he  heard  one  piercing  shriek, 
A deadlier  paleness  spread  his  cheek  ; 
Sidelong  he  look’d,  and  fearfully, 
Dreading  the  sight  he  yet  would  see  ; 
Trembled  his  knees’,  his  eye  grew  dim, 
His  stricken  brain  began  to  swim  ; 

He  stagger’d  back  against  a yew 
That  o’er  the  bier  its  branches  threw  ; 
Upon  his  brows  the  dews  of  death 
Collected,  and  his  quick  low  breath 
Seem’d  but  the  last  and  feeble  strife, 

Ere  yet  it  yield,  of  parting  life. 

There  lay  his  bride — death  hath  not  quite 
O’ershadow’d  all  her  beauty’s  light; 

Still  on  her  brow  and  on  her  cheek 
It  linger’d,  like  the  sun’s  last  streak 
On  Sliav-na-goila’s  head  of  snow 
When  all  the  vales  are  dark  below— 
Her  lids  in  languid  stillness  lay 
Like  lilies  o’er  a stream-parch’d  way, 
Which  kiss  no  more  the  wave  of  light 


248  THE  POEMS  OF  J.  J.  CAL  LAN  AN. 


That  flash’d  beneath  them  purely  bright ; 
Above  her  forehead,  fair  and  young, 

Her  dark-brown  tresses  clustering  hung, 
Like  summer  clouds,  that  still  shine  on 
When  he  who  gilds  their  folds  is  gone. 
Her  features  breathed  a sad  sweet  tone 
Caught  ere  the  spirit  left  her  throne, 
Like  that  the  night-wind  often  makes 
When  some  forsaken  lyre  it  wakes, 

And  minds  us  of  the  master  hand 
That  once  could  all  its  voice  command. 

u Cold  be  the  hand,  and  curst  the  blow,” 
Her  kinsman  cried,  11  that  laid  thee 
low  ; — 

Curst  be  the  steel  that  pierced  thy  heart.” 
Forth  sprang  that  Chief  with  sudden 
start, 

Tore  off  the  scarf  that  veil’d  her  breast — 
That  dark  deep  wound  can  tell  the  rest. 
He  gazed  a moment,  then  his  brand 
Flash’d  out  so  sudden  in  his  hand, 

His  boldest  clansmen  backward  reel’d — 
Trembling,  the  aged  abbot  kneel’d. 
u Is  this  a time  for  grief,”  he  cried, 
li  And  thou  thus  low,  my  murder’d  bride  ? 
Fool  ! to  such  boyish  feelings  bow, 

Far  other  task  hath  Donal  now  ; 

Hear  me,  ye  thunder  upon  high  ! 

And  thou,  bless’d  ocean,  hear  my  cry  ! 
Hear  me  ! sole  resting  friend,  my  sword, 
And  thou,  dark  wound,  attest  my  word  ! 
No  food,  no  rest  shall  Donal  know, 

Until  he  lay  thy  murderer  low — 

Until  each  sever’d  quivering  limb 
In  its  own  lustful  blood  shall  swim. 

When  my  heart  gains  this  poor  relief, 
Then,  Eva,  wilt  thou  bless  thv  chief. 
Bless  him  ! — no,  no,  that  word  is  o’er, 
My  sweet  one  ! thou  can’st  bless  no  more  ; 
No  more,  returning  from  the  strife 
Where  Donal  fought  to  guard  thy  life 
And  free  his  native  land,  shalt  thou 
Wipe  the  red  war  drops  from  his  brow, 
And  hush  his  toils  and  cares  to  rest 
Upon  thy  fond  and  faithful  breast.” 

He  gazed  a moment  on  her  face, 

And  stoop’d  to  take  the  last  embrace, 
And  as  his  lips  to  hers  he  prest, 


The  coffin  shook  beneath  his  breast, 

That  heaved  convulsive  as  'twould  break; 
Then  in  a tone  subdued  and  meek, 

“ Take  her,”  he  said,  and  calmly  rose, 
And  through  the  friends  that  round  him 
close. 

Unheeding  what  their  love  would  say, 
All  silently  he  urged  his  way  ; 

Then  wildly  rushing  down  the  steep 
He  plunged  amid  the  breaker’s  sweep. 

Awfully  the  thunder 

Is  shouting  through  the  night, 

And  o’er  the  heaven  convulsed  and  riven 
The  lightning-streams  are  bright. 
Beneath  their  fitful  flashing, 

As  from  hill  to  hill  they  leap, 

In  ridgy  brightness  dashing 
Comes  on  loud  ocean’s  sweep. 

Fearfully  the  tempest 

Sings  out  his  battle-song, 

His  war  is  with  the  unflinching  rocks, 
And  the  forests  tall  and  strong  ; 

His  war  is  with  the  stately  bark  ; 

But  ere  the  strife  be  o’er, 

Full  many  a pine,  on  land  and  brine, 
Shall  rise  to  heaven  no  more. 

The  storm  shall  sink  in  slumber, 

The  lightning  fold  its  wing, 

And  the  morning  star  shall  gleam  afar, 
In  the  beauty  of  its  king  ; 

But  there  are  eyes  shall  sleep  in  death 
Before  they  meet  its  ray  ; 

Avenger  ! on  thine  errand  speed, 

Haste,  Donal,  on  thy  way  ! 

Carriganassig,  from  thy  walls 
No  longer  now  the  warder  calls  ; 

No  more  is  heard  o’er  goblets  bright 
Thy  shout  of  revelry  at  night ; 

No  more  the  bugle’s  merry  sound 
Wakes  all  thy  mountain  echoes  round. 
When  for  the  foray,  or  the  chase, 

At  morn  rush’d  forth  thy  hardy  race 
And  northward  as  it  died  away 
Roused  the  wild  deer  of  Kaoim-an-e. 


THE  POEMS  OF  J.  J.  CALLANAX.  263 


THOUGH  DARK  FATE  HATH 
REFT  ME- 

THOUGH  dark  Fate  hath  reft  me 
Of  all  that  was  sweet, 

And  widely  we  sever, 

Too  widely  to  meet — 

Oh,  yet  while  one  life  pulse 
Remains  in  this  heart, 

’Twill  remember  thee,  Mary, 
Wherever  thou  art. 

How  sad  were  the  glances 
At  parting  we  threw  ! 


No  word  was  there  spoken 
But  the  stifled  adieu  ; 

My  lip^  o’er  thy  cold  cheek 
All  raptureless  pass’d — 

’Twas  the  first  time  I press’d  it — 
It  must  be  the  last. 

But  why  should  I dwell  thus 
On  scenes  that  but  pain, 

Or  think  on  thee,  Mary, 

When  thinking  is  vain  ? 

Thy  name  to  this  bosom 
Now  sounds  like  a knell : 

My  fond  one,  my  dear  one, 
Forever — farewell ! 


THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE- 

WEET  Auburn  ! loveliest  of  the  plain, 
Where  health  and  plenty  cheer’d 
the  laboring  swain, 

Where  smiling  Spring  its  earliest  visit 
paid, 

And  parting  Summer’s  lingering  blooms 
delay’d  ; 

Dear  lovely  bowers  of  innocence  and 
ease, 

Seats  of  my  youth,  when  every  sport 
could  please — 

How  often  have  I loiter’d  o’er  thy  green, 

Where  humble  happiness  endear’d  each 
scene  ! 

How  often  have  I paused  on  every 
charm — 

The  shelter’d  cot,  the  cultivated  farm, 

The  nevei’-failing  brook,  the  busy  mill, 

The  decent  church  that  topt  the  neighbor- 
ing hill, 

The  hawthorn  bush,  with  seats  beneath 
the  shade, 

For  talking  age  and  whispering  lovers 

made  ! 

How  often  have  I bless’d  the  coming  day 

When  toil  remitting  lent  its  turn  to  play, 

And  all  the  village  train,  from  labor  free, 

Let  up  their  sports  beneath  the  spread- 
ing tree  ; 


While  many  a pastime  circled  in  the 
shade, 

The  young  contending  as  the  old  sur- 
vey’d ; 

And  many  a gambol  frolick’d  o’er  the 
ground, 

And  sleights  of  art  and  feats  of  strength 
went  round, 

And  still,  as  each  repeated  pleasure  tired, 

Succeeding  sports  the  mirthful  band  in- 
spired ; 

The  dancing  pair  that  simply  sought  re- 
nown 

By  holding  out  to  tire  each  other  down  ; 

The  swain  mistrustless  of  his  smutted 
face, 

While  secret  laughter  titter’d  round  the 
place  ; 

The  bashful  virgin’s  sidelong  looks  of 
love, 

The  matron’s  glance  that  would  those 
looks  reprove  ! 

! These  were  thy  charms,  sweet  village  ! 
sports  like  these, 

With  sweet  succession,  taught  even  toil  to 
please  ; 

These  round  thy  bowers  their  cheerful  in- 
fluence shed ; 

These  were  thy  charms — but  all  these 
charms  are  fled. 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH  (from  a portrait  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds). 


THE  POEMS  OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.  2G5 


Sweet  smiling  village,  loveliest  of  the 
lawn, 

Thy  sports  are  fled,  and  all  thy  charms 
withdrawn  ; 

| Amidst  thy  bowers  the  tyrant’s  hand  is 

seen, 

And  desolation  saddens  all  thy  green : 

One  only  master  grasps  the  whole  domain, 

And  half  a tillage  stints  thy  smiling  plain. 

No  more  thy  glassy  brook  reflects  the 
day, 

But  choked  with  sedges  works  its  weary 
way  ; 

Along  thy  glades,  a solitary  guest, 

The  hollow-sounding  bittern  guards  its 
nest ; 

Amidst  thy  desert  walks  the  lapwing  flies, 

And  tires  their  echoes  with  unvaried 
cries ; 

Sunk  are  thy  bowers  in  shapeless  ruin  all, 

And  the  long  grass  o’ertops  the  moulder- 
ing wall; 

And,  trembling,  shrinking  from  the 
spoiler’s  hand, 

Far,  far  away,  thy  children  leave  the 
land. 


Ill  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a 

P^y, 

Where  wealth  accumulates  and  men 
decay  : 

Princes  and  lords  may  flourish  or  may 
fade — 

A breath  can  make  them,  as  a breath  has 
made; 

But  a bold  peasantry,  their  country’s 
pride, 

When  once  destroy’d  can  never  be  sup- 
plied. 

A time  there  was,  ere  England’s  griefs 
began, 

When  every  rood  of  ground  maintain’d  its 
man  ; 

For  him  light  labor  spread  her  wholesome 
store, 

Just  gave  what  life  required,  but  gave  no 
more  : 


His  best  companions,  innocence  and  health, 

And  his  best  riches,  ignorance  of  wealth. 

But  times  are  alter’d  ; trade’s  unfeel- 
ing- train 

Usui’p  the  land,  and  dispossess  the  swain: 

Along  the  lawn,  where  scatter’d  hamlets 
rose, 

Unwieldy  wealth  and  cumbrous  pomp  re- 
pose ; 

And  every  want  to  luxury  allied, 

And  every  pang  that  folly  pays  to  pride. 

Those  gentle  hours  that  plenty  bade  to 
bloom, 

Those  calm  desires  that  ask’d  but  little 
room, 

Those  healthful  sports  that  graced  the 
peaceful  scene, 

Lived  in  each  look,  and  brighten’d  all 
the  green  ; — 

These,  far  departing,  seek  a kinder  shore, 

And  rural  mirth  and  manners  are  no 
more. 


Sweet  Auburn  ! parent  of  the  blissful 
hour, 

Thy  glades  forlorn  confess  the  tyrant’s 
power. 

Here,  as  I take  my  solitary  rounds, 

Amidst  thy  tangling  walks  and  ruin’d 
grounds, 

And,  many  a year  elapsed,  return  to 
view 

Where  once  the  cottage  stood,  the  haw- 
thorn grew — 

Remembrance  wakes  with  all  her  busy 
train, 

Swells  at  my  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to 
pain. 

In  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world 
of  care, 

In  all  my  griefs — and  God  has  given  my 
share — - 

I still  had  hppes,  my  latest  hours  to  crown, 

Amidst  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me 
down  ; 

To  husband  out  life’s  taper  ai  the  close, 


266  T II  E P O E M S 0 F 0 L 


And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting,  by  re- 
pose. 

I still  bad  hopes,  for  pride  attends  us  still, 

Amidst  the  swains  to  show  my  book- 
learn’d  skill — 

j Around  my  fire  an  evening  group  to 
draw, 

And  tell  of  all  I felt,  and  all  I saw  : 

And,  as  a hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns 
pursue, 

Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  fii’st  he 
flew, 

I still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past, 
j Here  to  return — and  die  at  home  at  last. 

O bless’d  retirement,  friend  to  life’s  de- 
cline, 

| Retreats  from  care,  that  never  must  be 
mine, — 

How  blest  is  he  who  crowns,  in  shades 
like  these, 

A youth  of  labor  with  an  age  of  ease  ; 

Who  quits  the  world  where  strong  temp- 
tations try — 

And,  since  ’tis  hard  to  combat,  learns  to 
fly! 

For  him  no  wretches,  born  to  work  and 
weep, 

Explore  the  mine,  or  tempt  the  dangerous 
deep  ; 

No  surly  porter  stands,  in  guilty  state, 

To  spurn  imploring  famine  from  the  gate  ; 

Rut  on  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end, 

Angels  around  befriending  virtue’s 
friend — 

Sinks  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  de- 
cay. 

While  resignation  gently  slopes  the 
way — 

And,  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the 
last, 

His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  be 
pass’d. 

Sweet  was  the  sound,  when  oft  at  even- 
ing’s close 

Up  yonder  hill  the  village  murmur  rose. 


I V E R GO  L D S M I T II. 


There,  as  I pass’d  with  careless  steps  and 
slow, 

The  mingling  notes  came  soften’d  from 
below  : 

The  swain  responsive  as  the  milkmaid 
sung, 

The  sober  herd  that  low’d  to  meet  their 
young, 

The  noisy  geese  that  gabbled  o’er  the 
pool, 

Flie  playful  children  just  let  loose  from 
school, 

The  watchdog’s  voice  that  bay’d  the 
whispering  wind 

And  the  haul  laugh  that  spoke  the  va- 
cant mind — 

These  all  in  sweet  confusion  sought  the 
shade, 

And  fill’d  each  pause  the  nightingale  had 
made. 

But  now  the  sounds  of  population  fail, 

No  cheerful  murmurs  fluctuate  in  the 
gale, 

No  busy  steps  the  grass-grown  footway 
tread, 

For  all  the  blooming  flush  of  life  is  fled — 

All  but  yon  widow’d,  solitary  thing, 

That  feebly  bends  beside  the  plashy 
spring; 

She,  wretched  matron — forced  in  age, 
for  bread, 

To  strip  the  brook  with  mantling  cresses 
spread, 

To  pick  her  wintry  fagot  from  the 
thorn, 

To  seek  her  nightly  shed,  and  weep  till 
morn — 

She  only  left  of  all  the  harmless  train, 

The  sad  historian  of  the  pensive  plain  ! 

Near  yonder  copse,  where  once  the 
garden  smiled, 

And  still  where  many  a garden  flower 
grows  wild — 

There,  where  a few  torn  shrubs  the  place 
disclose, 

The  village  preacher’s  modest  mansion 
rose. 


THE  POEMS  OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH.  267 


A man  he  was  to  all  the  country  dear, 

And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a 
year. 

Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly 
race, 

Nor  e’er  had  changed,  nor  wish’d  to 
change,  his  place  ; 

Unpractised  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for 
power, 

By  doctrines  fashion’d  to  the  varying 
hour  ; 

Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  learn’ d to 
prize — 

More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to 
rise. 

His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant 
train  ; 

He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved 
their  pain  : 

The  long-remember’d  beggar  was  his 
guest, 

Whose  beard  descending  swept  his  aged 
breast  ; 

The  ruin’d  spendthrift,  now  no  longer 
proud, 

Claim’d  kindred  there,  aYid  had  his  claims 
allow’d ; 

The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 

Sat  by  his  fire,  and  talk’d  the  night 
away — 

Wept  o’er  his  wounds,  or,  tales  of  sorrow 
done, 

Shoulder’d  his  crutch  and  show’d  how 
fields  were  won. 

Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man 
learn’d  to  glow, 

And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their 
woe  ; 

Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to 
scan, 

His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began. 

Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his 
pride, 

And  his  failings  lean’d  to  virtue’s  side — 

But  in  his  duty  prompt  at  every  call, 

He  watch’d  and  wept,  he  pray’d  and 
felt  for  all ; 


And,  as  a bird  each  fond  endearment 
tries 

To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the 
skies, 

He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull 
delay,  _ 

Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the 
way. 

Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was 
laid, 

And  sorrow,  guilt,  and  pain  by  turns  dis- 
may’d, 

The  reverend  champion  stood.  At  his 
control 

Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling 
soul ; 

Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch 
to  raise, 

And  even  his  last  faltering  accents  whis- 
per’d praise. 

At  church,  with  meek  and  unaffected 
grace, 

His  looks  adorn’d  the  venerable  place; 

Truth  from  his  lips  prevail’d  with  double 
sway, 

And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remain’d  to 
pray. 

The  service  pass’d,  around  the  pious  man 

With  ready  zeal  each  honest  rustic  ran ; 

Even  children  follow’d,  with  endearing 
wile, 

And  pluck’d  his  gown,  to  share  the  good 
man’s  smile  : 

His  ready  smile  a parent’s  warmth  ex- 
press’d, 

Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their 
cares  distress’d. 

To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs 
were  given, 

But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in 
heaven : 

As  some  tall  cliff,  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 

Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves 
the  storm, 

Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds 
are  spread, 

Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 


268  THE  POEMS  OF  O 


Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts 
the  way 

With  blossom’d  furze  unprofitably  gay — 

There,  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skill’d  to 
rule, 

The  village  master  taught  his  little  school. 

A man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view  ; 

I knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew : 

Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learn’d  to 
trace 

The  day’s  disasters  in  his  morning  face  ; 

F ull  well  they  laugh’d  with  counterfeited 

glee 

At  all  his  jokes — for  many  a joke  had  he; 

Full  well  the  busy  whisper,  circling  round, 

Convey’d  the  dismal  tidings  when  he 
frown’d. 

Yet  he  was  kind;  or  if  severe  in  aught, 

The  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault. 

The  village  all  declared  how  much  he 
knew — 

’Twas  certain  he  could  write,  and  cipher 
too  ; 

Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides 
presage, 

And  even  the  story  ran  that  he  could 
gauge. 

In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  ow’d  his  skill, 

For  even  though  vanquish’d,  he  could 
argue  still ; 

While  words  of  learned  length  and 
thundering  sound 

Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged 
around — 

And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder 
grew 

That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he 
knew. 

But  pass’d  is  all  his  fame  ; the  very 
spot 

Where  many  a time  he  triumph’d  is  forgot. 

Near  yonder  thorn,  that  lifts  its  head  on 
high, 

Where  once  the  sign-post  caught  the 
passing  eye, 

Low  lies  that  house  where  nutbrown 
draughts  inspired, 


jIVER  goldsmith. 


Where  graybeard  mirth  and  smiling  toil 
retired, 

Where  village  statesmen  talk’d  with  looks 
profound, 

And  news  much  older  than  their  ale  went 
round. 

Imagination  fondly  stoops  to  trace 

The  parlor  splendors  of  that  festive  place  ; 

The  whitewash’d  wall,  the  nicely  sanded 
floor, 

The  varnish’d  clock  that  click’d  behind 
the  door ; 

The  chest  contrived  a double  debt  to  pay, 

A bed  by  night,  a chest  of  drawers  by  ! 
day  ; 

The  pictures  placed  for  ornament  and  ' 
use, 

The  twelve  good  rules,  the  royal  game  of 
goose  ; 

The  hearth,  except  when  Winter  chill’d 
the  day, 

With  aspen  boughs  and  flowers  and  fen- 
nel gay  ; 

While  broken  teacups,  wisely  kept  for 
show, 

Ranged  o’er  the  chimney,  glisten’d  in  a 
row. 


Vain  transitory  splendors  ! could  not 
all 

Reprieve  the  tottering  mansion  from  its 
fall  ? 

Obscure  it  sinks  ; nor  shall  it  more  'im- 
part 

An  hour’s  importance  to  the  poor  man’s 
heart : 

Thither  no  more  the  peasant  shall  repair 

To  sweet  oblivion  of  his  daily  care  ; 

No  more  the  farmer’s  news,  the  barber’s 
tale, 

No  more  tlie  woodman’s  ballad  shall  pre- 
vail ; 

No  more  the  smith  his  dusky  brow  shall 
clear, 

Relax  his  ponderous  strength  and  lean  to 
hear  ; 

The  host  himself  no  longer  shall  be  found 


THE 


John  Philpot  Curran. 

sfo  k/Si.%  -/'.(‘-Iks*  efe 


OH!  SLEEP. 

|§§H  ! sleep,  awhile  thy  power  suspend- 

Hi  ing. 

Weigh  not  my  eyelids  down  ; 

For  memory,  see  ! with  eve  attending, 
Claims  a moment  for  her  own. 

I know  her  by  her  robe  of  mourning, 

I know  her  by  her  faded  light, 

When  faithful,  with  the  gloom  returning, 
She  comes  to  bid  a sad  good-night. 

Oh  ! let  me  here,  with  bosom  swelling, 
While  she  sighs  o’er  the  time  that’s 
past — 

Oh  ! let  me  weep,  while  she  is  telling 
Of  joys  that  pine,  and  pangs  that  1 st. 
And  now,  oh  ! sleep,  while  grief  is  stream- 
ing, 

Let  thy  balm  sweet  peace  restore, 
While  fearful  hope,  through  tears  is 
beaming, 

Soothe  to  rest,  that  wakes  no  more. 


THE  DESERTER’S  LAMENTA- 
TION. 

MF,  sadly  thinking, 

With  spirits  sinking, 

Could  more  than  drinking 


Our  griefs  compose — 
A cure  for  sorrow, 

From  grief  I’d  borrow, 
And  hope  to-morrow 

Might  end  my  woes. 

But  since  in  wailing 
There’s  naught  availing, 
For  death  unfailing 

Will  strike  the  blow  ; 
Then  for  that  reason, 

And  for  a season, 

Let  us  be  merry 
Before  we  go  ! 

A way-worn  ranger, 

To  joy  a stranger, 
Through  every  danger 
My  course  I’ve  run  : 
Now  death  befriending, 
His  last  aid  lending, 

My  griefs  are  ending, 

My  woes  are  done. 

No  more  a rover, 

Or  hapless  lover, 

Those  cares  are  over — 
My  cup  runs  low  ; 
Then,  for  that  reason, 

And  for  the  season, 

Let  us  be  merry 
Before  we  go. 


284 


THE  POEMS  OF  JOHN  PHILP  )T  CURRAN. 


THE  MONKS  OF  THE  ORDER  OF 
ST.  PATRICK. 

COMMONLY  CALLED 

THE  MONKS  OF  THE  SCREW. 

atJirriEN  St.  Patrick  this  order  estab- 

HshM, 

He  call’d  us  the  u Monks  of  the 
Screw 

Good  rules  he  reveal’d  to  our  Abbot, 

To  guide  us  in  what  we  should  do  ; 
But  first  he  replenish’d  our  fountain 
With  liquor  the  best  in  the  sky  ; 

And  he  said,  on  the  word  of  a saint, 

That  the  fountain  should  never  run 
dry. 

Each  year,  when  your  octaves  approach, 
In  full  chapter  convened  let  me  find 
you; 

And  when  to  the  Convent  you  come, 
Leave  your  favorite  temptation  behind 
you. 

And  be  not  a glass  in  your  Convent, 
Unless  on  a festival,  found  ; 

And,  this  rule  to  enforce,  I ordain  it 
One  festival  all  the  year  round. 

My  brethren,  be  chaste,  till  you’re  tempt- 
ed ; 

While  sober,  be  grave  and  discreet ; 
And  humble  your  bodies  with  fasting, 

As  oft  as  you’ve  nothing  to  eat. 

Yet,  in  honor  of  fasting,  one  lean  face 
Among  you  I’d  always  require  ; 

If  the  Abbot  should  please,  he  may  wear  it, 
If  not,  let  it  come  to  the  Prior. 

Come,  let  each  take  his  chalice,  my 
brethren, 

And  with  due  devotion  prepare, 

With  hands  and  with  voices  uplifted, 

Our  hymn  to  conclude  with  a prayer.  • 
May  this  chapter  oft  joyously  meet, 


And  this  glad  libation  renew, 

To  the  Saint,  and  the  Founder,  and  Ab- 
bot, 

And  Prior,  and  Monks  of  the  Screw  ! 


THE  GREEN  SPOT  THAT 
BLOOMS  O’ER  THE  DES- 
ERT OF  LIFE. 

the  desert  of  life,  where  you 
vainly  pursued 

Those  phantoms  of  hope,  which  their 
promise  disown, 

Have  you  e’er  met  some  spirit,  divinely 
endued, 

That  so  kindly  could  say,  you  don’t 
suffer  alone  ? 

And,  however  your  fate  may  have  smiled, 
or  have  frown’d, 

Will  she  deign,  still,  to  share  as  the 
friend  or  the  wife  ? 

Then  make  her  the  pulse  of  your  heart ; 
for  you’ve  found 

The  green  spot  that  blooms  o’er  the 
desert  of  life. 

Does  she  love  to  recall  the  past  moments, 
so  dear, 

When  the  sweet  pledge  of  faith  was 
confidingly  given, 

When  the  lip  spoke  the  voice  of  affection 
sincere, 

And  the  vow  was  exchanged,  and  re- 
corded in  heaven  ? 

Does  she  wish  to  re-bind,  what  already 
was  bound, 

And  draw  closer  the  claim  of  the  friend 
and  the  wife  ? 

Then  make  her  the  pulse  of  your  heart  ; 
for  you’ve  found 

The  green  spot  that  blooms  o’er  the 
desert  of  life. 


WMl 


THE  BRIDAL  OF  MALAHIDE. 


AN  IRISH  LEGEND. 

joy-bells  are  ringing 
In  gay  Malahide, 

The  fresh  wind  is  singing 
Along  the  sea-side ; 

The  maids  are  assembling 
With  garlands  of  flowers, 

And  the  harpstrings  are  trembling 
In  all  the  glad  bowers. 

Swell,  swell  the  gay  measure  ! 

Roll  trumpet  and  drum  ! 

’Mid  greetings  of  pleasure 
In  splendor  they  come  ! 

The  chancel  is  ready, 

The  portal  stands  wide 
For  the  lord  and  the  lady, 

The  bridegroom  and  bride. 

What  years,  ere  the  latter, 

Of  earthly  delight 
The  future  shall  scatter 
O’er  them  in  its  flight  ! 

What  blissful  caresses 
Shall  Fortune  bestow, 

Ere  those  dark-flowing  tresses 
Fall  white  as  the  snow  ! 


Before  the  high  altar 

Young  Maud  stands  array’d; 
With  accents  that  falter 
Her  promise  is  made — 
From  father  and  mother 
Forever  to  part, 

For  him  and  no  other 
To  treasure  her  heart. 

The  words  are  repeated, 

The  bridal  is  done, 

The  rite  is  completed — 

The  two,  they  are  one ; 

The  vow,  it  is  spoken 
All  pure  from  the  heart, 
That  must  not  be  broken 
Till  life  shall  depart. 

Hark  ! ’mid  the  gay  clangor 
That  compass’d  their  car, 
Loud  accents,  in  anger, 

Come  mingling  afar ! 

The  foe’s  on  the  border, 

His  weapons  resound 
Where  the  lines  in  disorder 
Unguarded  are  found. 

As  wakes  the  good  shepherd, 
The  watchful  and  bold, 
When  the  ounce  or  the  leopard 


28b  THE  POEMS  OF  GERALD  GRIFFIN. 


And  where  does  he  tarry, 
The  lord  of  the  field  ? 


Is  seen  in  the  fold  ; 

So  rises  already 

The  chief  in  his  mail, 

While  the  new-married  lady 
Looks  fainting  and  pale. 

u Son,  husband,  and  brother, 
Arise  to  the  strife, 

For  sister  and  mother, 

For  children  and  wife  ! 

O’er  hill  and  o’er  hollow, 

O’er  mountain  and  plain, 

Up,  true  men,  and  follow  ! — 

Let  dastards  remain  !” 

Farrah  ! to  the  battle  ! 

They  form  into  line — 

The  shields,  how  they  rattle  ! 

The  spears,  how  they  shine  ! 
Soon,  soon  shall  the  foeman 
His  treachery  rue — 

On,  burgher  and  yeoman, 

To  die,  or  to  do  ! 

The  eve  is  declining 
In  lone  Malahide, 

The  maidens  are  twining 
Gay  wreaths  for  the  bride  ; 

She  marks  them  unheeding — 

Her  heai’t  is  afar, 

Where  the  clansmen  are  bleeding 
For  her  in  the  war. 

Hark ! loud  from  the  mountain, 
’Tis  Victory’s  cry  ! 

O’er  woodland  and  fountain 
It  rings  to  the  sky  ! 

The  foe  has  retreated  ! 

He  flies  to  the  shore  ; 

The  spoiler’s  defeated — 

The  combat  is  o’er  ! 

With  foreheads  unruffled 
The  conquerors  come — 

But  why  have  they  muffled 
The  lance  and  the  drum  ? 

What  form  do  they  carry 
Aloft  on  his  shield  ? 


Ye  saw  him  at  morning, 

How  gallant  and  gay  ! 

In  bridal  adorning, 

The  star  of  the  day  : 

Now  weep  for  the  lover — 

His  triumph  is  sped, 

Ilis  hope,  it  is  over  ! 

The  chieftain  is  dead. 

But,  oh  for  the  maiden 

Who  mourns  for  that  chief, 
With  heart  overladen 
And  rending  with  grief! 
She  sinks  on  the  meadow — 

In  one  morning-tide, 

A wife  and  a widow, 

A maid  and  a bride  ! 

Ye  maidens  attending, 
Forbear  to  condole  ! 

Your  comfort  is  rending 
The  depths  of  her  soul. 
True — true,  ’twas  a story 
For  ages  of  pride  ; 

He  died  in  his  glory — 

But,  oh,  he  has  died  ! 

The  war-cloak  she  raises 
All  mournfully  now, 

And  steadfastly  gazes 
Upon  the  cold  brow. 

That  glance  may  forever 
Unalter’d  remain, 

But  the  bridegroom  will  never 
Return  it  again. 

The  dead-bells  are  tolling 
In  sad  Malahide, 

The  death-wail  is  rolling 
Along  the  sea-side ; 

The  crowds,  heavy  hearted, 
Withdraw  from  the  green, 
For  the  sun  had  departed 
That  brighten’d  the  scene  ! 


THE  POEMS  OF  GERALD  GRIFFIN.  287 


Even  yet  in  that  valley, 

Though  years  have  roll’d  by, 
When  through  the  wild  sally 
The  sea-breezes  sigh, 

The  peasant,  with  sorrow, 
Beholds  in  the  shade, 

The  tomb  where  the  morrow 
Saw  Hussy  convey’d. 

How  scant  was  the  warning, 
How  briefly  reveal’d, 

Before  on  that  morning 
Death’s  chalice  was  fill’d  1 
The  hero  who  drunk  it 
There  moulders  in  gloom, 
And  the  form  of  Maud  Plunket 
Weeps  over  his  tomb. 

The  stranger  who  wanders 
Along  the  lone  vale, 

Still  sighs  while  he  ponders 
On  that  heavy  tale  : 
u Thus  passes  each  pleasure 
That  earth  can  supply — 
Thus  joy  has  its  measure — 

We  live  but  to  die  !” 


HARK ! HARK ! THE  SOFT 
BUGLE. 

|ji[ARK  ! hark  ! the  soft  bugle  sounds 
over  the  wood, 

And  thrills  in  the  silence  of  even, 

Till  faint,  and  more  faint,  in  the  far  sol- 
itude, 

It  dies  on  the  portals  of  heaven  ! 

But  echo  springs  up,  from  her  home  in 
the  rock, 

And  seizes  the  perishing  strain  ; 

And  sends  the  gay  challenge,  with 
shadowy  mock, 

From  mountain  to  mountain  again  ! 

And  again  ! 

From  mountain  to  mountain  again. 

Oh,  thus  let  my  love,  like  a sound  of 
delight, 


Be  around  thee  while  shines  the  glad 
day, 

And  leave  thee,  unpain’d,  in  the  silence 
of  night,’ 

And  die  like  sweet  music  away. 

While  hope,  with  her  warm  light,  thy 
glancing  eye  fills, 

Oh,  say — “ Like  that  echoing  strain, 

Though  the  sound  of  his  love  has  died 
over  the  hills, 

It  will  waken  in  heaven  again.” 

And  again  ! 

It  will  waken  in  heaven  again. 


A SOLDIER— A SOLDIER  TO- 
NIGHT IS  OUR  GUEST. 

UP*  AN,  fan  the  gay  hearth,  and  fling 
back  the  barr’d  door, 

Strew,  strew  the  fresh  rushes  around  on 
our  floor, 

And  blithe  be  the  welcome  in  every 
breast — 

For  a soldier — a soldier  to-night  is  our 
guest. 

All  honor  to  him  who,  when  danger  afar 

Had  lighted  for  ruin  his  ominous  star, 

Left  pleasure,  and  country,  and  kindred 
behind, 

And  sped  to  the  shock  on  the  wings  of 
the  wind. 

If  you  value  the  blessings  that  shine  at 
our  hearth — 

The  wife’s  smiling  welcome,  the  infant’s 
sweet  mirth — 

While  they  charm  us  at  eve,  let  us  think 
upon  those 

Who  have  bought  with  their  blood  our 
domestic  repose. 

Th  en  share  with  the  soldier  your  hearth 
and  your  home, 

And  warm  be  your  greeting  whene’er  he 
shall  come  ; 


288  TIIE  POEMS  OF  GERALD  GRIFFIN. 


Let  love  light  a welcome  in  every 
breast — 

For  a soldier — a soldier  to-night  is  our 
guest.  • 


AILEEN  AROON. 

Gl^f'dlFA  like  the  early  rose, 
Aileen  aroon  ! 

Beauty  in  childhood  blows. 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

When  like  a diadem, 

Buds  blush  around  the  stem, 
Which  is  the  fairest  gem  ? 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Is  it  the  laughing  eye  ? 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Is  it  the  timid  sigh  ? 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Is  it  the  tender  tone, 

Soft  as  the  string’ d harp’s  moan  ? 
Oh,  it  is  truth  alone, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

When,  like  the  rising  day, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Love  sends  his  early  ray, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

What  makes  his  dawning  glow 
Changeless  through  joy  or  woe  ? 
Only  the  constant  know, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

I know  a valley  fair, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

I knew  a cottage  there, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Far  in  that  valley’s  shade 
I knew  a gentle  maid, 

Flower  of  the  hazel  glade, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Who  in  the  song  so  sweet, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Who  in  the  dance  so  sweet, 
Aileen  aroon  ! 


Dear  were  her  charms  to  me, 
Dearer  her  laughter  free, 
Dearest  her  constancy, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Were  she  no  longer  true, 
What  should  her  lover  do  ? 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Fly  with  his  broken  chain 
Far  o’er  the  sounding  main, 
Never  to  love  again, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 

Youth  must  with  time  decay, 
Aileen  aroon  ! 

Beauty  must  fade  away, 
Aileen  aroon  ! 

Castles  are  sack’d  in  war, 
Chieftains  are  scatter’d  far, 
Truth  is  a fixed  star, 

Aileen  aroon  ! 


KNOW  YE  NOT  THAT  LOVELY 
RIVER? 

Aik — “ Boy's  wife  of  Aldivalloch." 

^jVNOW  ye  not  that  lovely  river? 

Know  ye  not  that  smiling  river  ? 
Whose  gentle  flood, 

By  cliff  and  wood, 

With  wildering  sound  goes  winding  ever. 

Oh  ! often  yet  with  feeling  strong, 

On  that  dear  stream  my  memory  ponders, 
And  still  I prize  its  murmuring  song, 
For  by  my  childhood’s  home  it  wanders. 
Know  ye  not,  &c. 

There’s  music  in  each  wind  that  flows 
Within  our  native  woodland  breathing ; 
There’s  beauty  in  each  flower  that  blows 
Around  our  native  woodland  wreathing. 
The  memory  of  the  brightest  joys 

In  childhood’s  happy  morn  that  found 
us, 


tmm 


. -?aCO  P3&=_ 

JOHN  ANSTER. 


DIRGE  SONG. 

FROM  THE  IRISH. 

®IKE  the  oak  of  the  vale  was  thy 
strength  and  thy  height, 

Thy  foot  like  the  erne  of  the  mountain  in 
flight : 

Thy  arm  was  the  tempest  of  Loda’s  fierce 
breath, 

Thy  blade,  like  the  blue  mist  of  Lego, 
was  death ! 

Alas,  how  soon  the  thin  cold  cloud 
The  hero’s  bloody  limbs  must  shroud  ! 
I see  thy  father,  full  of  days  ; 

For  thy  return  behold  him  gaze  ; 
The  hand,  that  rests  upon  the  spear, 
Trembles  in  feebleness  and  fear — 
He  shudders,  and  his  bald,  gray  brow 
Is  shaking,  like  the  aspen  bough  ; 
He  gazes,  till  his  dim  eyes  fail 
With  gazing  on  the  fancied  sail : 
Anxious  he  looks — what  sudden 
streak 

Flits,  like  a sunbeam,  o’er  his  cheek  ! 
u Joy,  joy,  my  child,  it  is  the  bark, 
That  bounds  on  yonder  billow  dark  !” 
His  child  looks  forth  with  straining 
eye, 

And  sees — the  light  cloud  sailing 


His  gray  head  shakes ; how  sad, 
how  weak 

That  sigh ! how  sorrowful  that  cheek  ! 

His  bride  from  her  slumbers  will  waken 
and  weep, 

But  when  shall  the  hero  arouse  him  from 
sleep  ? 

The  yell  of  the  stag-hound — the  clash  of 
the  spear, 

May  ring  o’er  his  tomb — but  the  dead 
cannot  hear. 

Once  he  wielded  the  sword,  once  he 
cheer’d  to  the  hound, 

But  his  pleasures  are  past,  and  his  slum- 
ber is  sound : 

Await  not  his  coming,  ye  sons  of  the 
chase, 

Day  dawns  ! but  it  nerves  not  the  dead 
for  the  race  ; 

Await  not  his  coming,  ye  sons-  of  the 
spear, 

The  war-song  ye  sing — but  the  dead 
will  not  hear. 

Oh  ! blessing  be  with  him  who  sleeps  in 
the  grave, 

The  leader  of  Lochlin  ! the  young  and  the 
brave  ! 

On  earth  didst  thou  scatter  the  strength 
of  our  foes, 


308 


THE  POEMS  OF  JOHN  ANSTER. 


Then  blessing  be  thine,  in  thy  cloud  of 


repose 


Like  the  oak  of  the  vale  was  thy  strength 
and  thy  might, 

Thy  foot,  like  the  erne  of  the  mountain 
in  flight  ; 

Thy  arm  was  the  tempest  of  Loda’s  fierce 
breath, 

Thy  blade,  like  the  blue  mist  of  Lego, 
was  death. 


THE  HARP. 

LLARA,  hast  thou  not  often  seen,  and 
§ smiled, 

A rosy  child, 

Deeming  that  none  were  near, 

Touch  with  a trembling  hand 

Some  fine-toned  instrument ; 
Then  gaze,  with  sparkling  eye,  as  on  her 
ear 

The  murmurs  died,  like  gales,  that  having 
fann’d 

Soft  summer  flowers,  sink  spent. 
Half  fearing,  still  she  lingers, 

Till  o’er  the  strings  again  she 
flings, 

Less  tremblingly,  her  fingers  ! — 

But  if  a stranger  eye 
The  timid  sport  should  spy, 

Oh  ! then,  with  pulses  wild, 
This  rosy  child 
Will  throb,  and  fly, 

Turn  pale  and  tremble,  tremble  and  turn 
red, 

And  in  thy  bosom  hide  her  head. 

Even  thus  the  harp  to  me 

Hath  been  a plaything  strange, 
A thing  of  fear,  of  wonder,  and  of  glee  ; 

Yet  would  I not  exchange 
This  light  harp’s  simple  gear  for  all  that 
man  holds  dear  ; 

And  should  the  stranger’s  ear  its  tones 
regardless  hear, 

It  still  is  sweet  to  thee  ! 


THE  EVERLASTING- ROSE. 

♦’MB LEM  of  hope  ! enchanted  flower, 
^3  Still  breathe  around  thy  faint  per- 
fume, 

Still  smile  amid  the  wintry  hour, 

And  boast,  even  now,  a spring-tide 
bloom  : 

Thine  is,  methinks,  a pleasant  dream, 
Lone  lingerer  in  the  icy  vale, 

Of  smiles  that  hail’d  the  morning  beam, 
And  sighs  more  sweet  for  evening’s 
gale  ! 

Still  are  thy  green  leaves  whispering 
Low  sounds  to  fancy’s  ear,  that  tell 

Of  mornings  when  the  wild-bee’s  wing 
Shook  dew-drops  from  thy  sparkling 
cell  ! 

With  thee  the  graceful  lily  vied, 

As  summer  breezes  waved  her  head  ; 

And  now  the  snow-drop  at  thy  side 
Meekly  contrasts  thy  cheerful  red. 

Well  dost  thou  know  each  varying  voice 
That  wakes  the  seasons,  sad  or  gay  ; 

The  summer  thrush  bids  thee  rejoice, 
And  wintry  robin’s  dearer  lay. 

Swreet  flower ! howr  happy  dost  thou 
seem, 

’Mid  parching  heat,  ’mid  nipping  frost ! 

While  gathering  beauty  from  each  beam, 
No  hue,  no  grace,  of  thine  is  lost ! 

Thus  hope,  ’mid  life’s  severest  days, 

Still  soothes,  still  smiles  away  despair  ; 

Alike  she  lives  in  pleasure’s  rays, 

And  cold  affliction’s  wdnter  air  : 

Charmer  alike  in  lordly  bower 

And  in  the  hermit’s  cell,  she  glows  ; 

The  poet’s  and  the  lover’s  flower, 

The  bosom’s  everlasting  rose  ! 


i 


IF  I MIGHT  CHOOSE. 

F I might  choose  w’here  my  tired  limbs 
shall  lie 


I 

THE  POEMS  OF  JOHN  ANSTER.  309 


When  my  task  here  is  done,  the  oak’s 
green  crest 

Shall  rise  above  my  grave — a little 
mound, 

Raised  in  some  cheerful  village  cemetery. 
And  I could  wish,  that,  with  unceasing 
sound, 

A lonely  mountain  rill  was  murmuring 

by— 

In  music — through  the  long  soft  twi- 
light hours. 

And  let  the  hand  of  her,  whom  I love  best, 
Plant  round  the  bright  green  grave 
those  fragrant  flowers 
In  whose  deep  bells  the  wild-bee  loves  to 
rest  ; 

And  should  the  robin  from  some  neigh- 
boring tree 

Pour  his  enchanted  song — oh  ! softly 
tread, 

For  sure,  if  aught  of  earth  can  soothe  the 
dead, 

He  still  must  love  that  pensive  melody! 


OH  ! IF,  AS  ARABS  FANCY. 

«H  ! if,  us  Arabs  fancy , the  traces 
on  thy  brow 

Were  symbols  of  thy  future  state,  and  I 
could  read  them  now, 


Almost  without  a fear  would  I explore 
the  mystic  chart, 

Believing  that  the  world  were  weak  to 
darken  such  a heart. 

As  yet  to  thy  untroubled  soul;  as  yet  to 
thy  young  eyes, 

The  skies  above  are  very  heaven — the 
earth  is  paradise ; 

The  birds  that  glance  in  joyous  air — the 
flowers  that  happiest  be, 

They  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,  are 
they  not  types  of  thee  ? 

And  yet,  and  yet — beloved  child — to 
thy  enchanted  sight, 

Blest  as  the  present  is,  the  days  to  come 
seem  yet  more  bright, 

For  thine  is  hope,  and  thine  is  love,  and 
thine  the  glorious  power 

That  gives  to  hope  its  fairy  light,  to  love 
its  richest  dower. 

For  me  that  twilight  time  is  past — those 
sunrise  colors  gone — 

The  prophecies  of  childhood — and  the 
promises  of  dawn  ; 

And  yet  what  is,  though  scarcely  heard, 
will  speak  of  what  has  been, 

While  love  assumes  a gentler  tone,  and 
hope  a calmer  mien. 


The  Rev.  Charles  Wolfe,  a minister  of  the  Established  Church,  was  a native  of  Dublin.  It  Is  to  be  regretted  that  he 
died  in  the  prime  of  manhood,  tor  a youth  of  such  promise  gave  hope  of  a distinguished  future.  He  furnished  another 
evidence  to  the  truth  of  that  apothegm  of  the  ancients— ‘‘  Whom  the  gods  love  die  young.”  His  lines,  entitled  as  above, 
at  first  appeared  anonymously,  and  created  such  general  admiration,  that,  along  with  several  simulations  as  to  their 
authorship,  not  a few  absolute  claims  were  made  for  that  honor  by  impudent  aspirants  for  fame  Medwln,  in  his 
“Conversations  of  Lord  llyron,”  asserts  his  belief  (among  the  speculators)  that  they  were  mitten  Ini  the  noble  poet, 
though  all  he  establishes  is  the  fact  that  they  were  admired  awl  read  by  him.  Though  the  extract  is  longer  than  is  de- 
sirable to  be  given  in  a work  like  the  present,  yet  it  is  so  pregnant  with  evidence  of  the  high  worth  at  which  Wolfe  was 
rated  among  the  highest,  that  1 cannot  resist  giving  it,  as  a tribute  due  to  his  memory. 

“The  conversation  turned  after  dinner  on  the  lyrical  poetry  of  the  day,  and  a question  arose  asto  which  was  the  most  perfect 
ode  that  had  been  produced.  Shelley  contended  for  Coleridge’s  on  Switzerland,  beginning  ‘ Ye  clouds,'  Arc.,  Arc.  ; others 
named  some  of  Moore’s  Irish  Melodies,  and  Campbell’s  Hohenlinden  ; and,  tiad  Lord  Byron  not  been  present,  his  own 
Invocation  to  Manfred,  or  Ode  to  Napoleon,  or  on  Prometheus,  might  have  been  cited. 

“ ’ Like  Gray,’  said  he,  ‘ Campbell  smells  too  much  of  the  oil  ; he  is  never  satisfied  with  what  he  does  ; his  finest  things 
have  been  spoiled  by  over-polish— the  sharpness  of  the  outline  is  worn  off.  Like  paintings,  poems  may  be  too  highly  fin- 
ished. The  great  ait  is  effect,  no  matter  how  produced. 

“ I will  show  you  an  ode  you  have  never  seen,  that  I consider  little  inferior  to  the  best  which  the  present  prolific  age 
has  brought  forth.’  With  this  he  left  the  table,  almost  before  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  returned  with  a magazine,  from 
which  he  read  the  following  lines  on  Sir  John  Moore’s  burial,  which  perhaps  require  no  apology  for  finding  a place  here.” 

Here  follow  the  stanzas,  after  which  Med  win  continues—”  The  feeling  with  which  he  recited  these  admirable  stanzas  I 
shall  never  forget.  After  he  had  come  to  an  end  he  repeated  the  third,  and  said  it  was  perfect,  particularly  the  lines— 


“ ‘ But  he  lay  like  a warrior  taking  his  rest, 

With  his  martial  cloak  around  him.’ 

“ ‘ I should  have  taken,’  said  Shelley,  ‘ the  whole  for  a rough  sketch  of  Campbell’s.’ 

“ ‘ No,’  replied  Lord  Byron  ; ‘Campbell  would  have  claimed  it,  if  it  had  been  his.’ 

“ ‘ 1 afterward  had  reason  to  think  that  the  ode  was  Lord  Byron’s ; that  he  was  piqued  at  none  of  his  own  being  men- 
tioned : and,  after  he  had  praised  the  verses  so  highly,  could  not  owu  them.  No  other  reason  can  be  assigned  for  his  not 
acknowledging  himself  the  author,  particularly  as  he  was  a great  admirer  of  General  Moore.” 

Here  we  have  Coleridge,  Campbell,  and  Moore  among  the  hypothetical  authors : Byron  and  Shelley,  as  admirers  and 
conjecturers ; and.  after  all,  it  was  a young  Irishman  who  produced  this  poem.  Such  literary  honor  is  worth  recording, 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  the  memory  of  the  departed  poet,  but  for  the  fame  of  the  land  that  gave  him  birth. — S.  Lover. 


GO,  FORGET  ME. 

iff’O,  forget  me — why  should  sorrow 
§gj|  O’er  that  brow  a shadow  ding  ? 
Go,  forget  me — and  to-morrow 
Brightly  smile,  and  sweetly  sing. 
Smile — though  I shall  not  be  near  thee : 
Sing — though  I shall  never  hear  thee  : 
May  thy  soul  with  pleasure  shine, 
Lasting  as  the  gloom  of  mine. 


Like  the  sun,  thy  presence  glowing, 
Clothes  the  meanest  things  in  light, 
And  when  thou,  like  him,  art  going, 
Loveliest  objects  fade  in  night. 

All  things  look’d  so  bright  about  thee, 
That  they  nothing  seem  without  thee  ; 
By  that  pure  and  lucid  mind 
Earthly  things  were  too  refined. 


THE  POEMS  OF  REV.  CHARLES  WOLFE.  311 


Go,  thou  vision  wildly  gleaming, 
Softly  on  my  soul  that  fell ; 

Go,  for  me  no  longer  beaming — 
Hope  and  Beauty  ! fare  ye  well ! 
Go,  and  all  that  once  delighted 
Take,  and  leave  me  all  benighted  ; 
Glory’s  burning,  generous  swell, 
Fancy  and  the  Poet’s  shell: 


THE  BURIAL  OF  SIR  JOHN  '■ 
MOORE. 

a drum  was  heard,  not  a fune- 
S§1  ral-note, 

As  his  corse  to  the  rampart  we 
hurried  ; 

Not  a soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O’er  the  grave  where  our  hero  we 
buried. 

We  buried  him  darkly  at  dead  of  night, 
The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning, 

By  the  struggling  moonbeam’s  misty 
light, 

And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 

No  useless  coffin  enclosed  his  breast, 

Not  in  sheet  or  in  shroud  we  wound 
him  ; 

But  he  lay  like  a warrior  taking  his 
rest, 

With  his  martial  cloak  around  him. 

Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 
And  we  spoke  not  a word  of  sorrow ; 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face 
that  was  dead, 

And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  mor- 
row. 

We  thought,  as  we  hollow’d  his  narrow 
bed, 

And  smooth’d  down  his  lonely  pillow, 
That  the  foe  and  stranger  would  tread 
o’er  his  head, 

And  we  far  away  on  the  billow  ! 


Lightly  they’ll  talk  of  the  spirit  that’s 
gone, 

And  o’er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him, — 

But  little  he’ll  reck,  if  they  let  him  sleep 
on 

In  the  grave  where  a Briton  has  laid 
him. 

But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  done, 

When  the  clock  struck  the  hour  for 
retiring  ; 

And  we  heard  the  distant  and  random 
gun 

That  the  foe  was  sullenly  firing. 

Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame,  fresh  and  • 
gory  ; 

We  carved  not  a line,  we  raised  not  a 
stone — 

But  we  left  him  alone  in  his  glory  ! 


THE  CHAINS  OF  SPAIN  ARE 
BREAKING. 

TfTPL  chains  of  Spain  are  breaking  ! 

Let  Gaul  despair,  and  fly  ; 

Her  wrathful  trumpet’s  speaking, 

Let  tyrants  hear,  and  die. 

Her  standard,  o’er  us  arching, 

Is  burning  red  and  far ; 

The  soul  of  Spain  is  marching, 

In  thunders  to  the  war — 

Look  around  your  lovely  Spain, 

And  say,  shall  Gaul  remain  ? — 

Behold  yon  burning  valley ; 

Behold  yon  naked  plain — 

Let  us  hear  their  drum — 

Let  them  come,  let  them  come  ! 

For  vengeance  and  freedom  rally, 
And,  Spaniards  ! onward  for  Spain. 

Remember  ! remember  Barossa  ; 

Remember  Napoleon’s  chain — 
Remember  your  own  Saragossa, 


312 


TIIE  POEMS  OF  REV.  CHARLES  WOLFE. 


And  strike  for  the  cause  of  Spain — 
Remember  your  own  Saragossa, 

And  onward  ! onward  ! for  Spain. 


OH ! SAY  NOT  THAT  MY  HEART 
IS  COLD. 

|H  ! say  not  that  my  heart  is  cold 
gg  To  aught  that  once  could  warm  it ; 
That  nature’s  form,  so  dear  of  old, 

No  more  has  power  to  charm  it ; 

Or  that  the  ungenerous  world  can  chill, 
One  glow  of  fond  emotion, 

For  those,  who  made  it  dearer  still, 

And  shared  my  wild  devotion. 

Still  oft  those  solemn  scenes  I view, 

In  rapt  and  dreamy  sadness  ; 

Oft  look  on  those,  who  loved  them  too, 
With  fancy’s  idle  gladness  ; 

Again  I long’d  to  view  the  light, 

In  nature’s  features  glowing  ; 

Again  to  tread  the  mountain’s  height, 
And  taste  the  soul’s  o’erflowing. 

Stern  duty  rose,  and  frowning  flung 
Her  leaden  chain  around  me ; 

With  iron  look,  and  sullen  tongue, 

He  mutter’d,  as  he  bound  me — 
u The  mountain  breeze,  the  boundless 
heaven, 

Unfit  for  toil  the  creature  ; 

These  for  the  free,  alone,  are  given — 
But,  what  have  slaves  with  nature  ? ” 


GONE  FROM  HER  CHEEK. 

IP’ONE  from  her  cheek  is  the  summer 
^ bloom, 

And  her  cheek  has  lost  its  faint  perfume, 
And  the  gloss  has  dropp’d  from  hex- 
raven  hair, 

And  her  foi-ehead  is  pale,  though  no 
longer  fair  ; 


And  the  spirit,  that  set  in  her  soft,  blue 
eye, 

Is  sunk  in  cold  moi-tality  ; 

And  the  smile  that  play’d  on  her  lip  is 
fled, 

And  every  grace  has  left  the  dead. 

Like  slaves,  they  obey’d  her  in  height  of 
power, 

But  left  her,  all,  in  her  winter-hour ; 

And  the  crowds  that  swore  for  her  love 
to  die, 

Shrunk  from  the  tone  of  her  parting 
sigh — 

And  this  is  man’s  fidelity  ! 

’Tis  woman  alone,  with  a firmer  heart, 

Can  see  all  those  idols  of  life  depai’t ; 

And  love  the  more,  and  soothe,  and  bless 
Man  in  his  utter  wretchedness. 


OH,  MY  LOVE  HAS  AN  EYE  OF 
THE  SOFTEST  BLUE. 

|j| H,  my  love  has  an  eye  of  the  softest 
blue, 

Yet  it  was  not  that  that  won  me ; 

But  a little  bright  drop  from  her  soul 
was  there, 

’Tis  that  that  has  undone  me. 

I might  havp  pass’d  that  lovely  cheek, 
Nor  perchance  my  heart  have  left  me  ; 
But  the  sensitive  blush  that  came  trem- 
bling there, 

Of  my  heart  it  forever  bereft  me. 

I might  have  forgotten  that  red,  red  lip, 
Yet  how  fi-om  that  thought  to  sever  ? 
But  there  was  a smile  fi-om  the  sunshine 
within, 

And  that  smile  I’ll  remember  forever. 

Think  not  ’tis  nothing  but  lifeless  clay, 
The  elegant  form  that  haunts  me  ; 


THE  POEMS  OF  REV.  CHARLES  WOLFE.  313 


And  thou  shouldst  smile  no  more. 

And  I on  thee  should  look  my  last, 

’Tis  the  gracefully  elegant  mind  that 
moves 

In  every  step,  that  enchants  me. 

Let  me  not  hear  the  nightingale  sing, 
Though  I once  in  its  notes  delighted  ; 
The  feeling  and  mind  that  comes  whis- 
pering forth 

Has  left  me  no  music  beside  it. 

Who  could  blame  had  I loved  that  face, 
Ere  my  eye  could  twice  explore  her ; 
Yet  it  is  for  the  fairy  intelligence  there, 
And  her  warm,  warm  heart,  I adore 
her. 


IF  I HAD  THOUGHT  THOU 
COULDST  HAVE  DIED. 

a IF  I had  thought  thou  couldst  have 
| died, 

I might  not  weep  for  thee  ; 

But  I forgot,  when  by  thy  side, 

That  thou  couldst  mortal  be. 

It  never  through  my  mind  had  pass’d 
The  time  would  e’er  be  o’er, 


And  still  upon  that  face  I look, 

And  think  ’twill  smile  again  ; 

And  still  the  thought  I will  not  brook, 
That  I must  look  in  vain. 

But  when  I speak,  thou  dost  not  say 
What  thou  ne’er  leftst  unsaid, 

And  now  I feel,  as  well  I may, 

Sweet  Mary  ! thou  art  dead. 


If  thou  wouldst  stay  e’en  as  thou  art, 

All  cold,  and  all  serene, 

I still  might  press  thy  silent  heart; 

And  where  thy  smiles  have  been  ! 
While  e’en  thy  child  bleak  corse  I have, 
Thou  seemest  still  mine  own, 

But  there  I lay  thee  in  thy  grave — 

And  I am  now  alone. 


I do  not  think,  where’er  thou  art, 

Thou  hast  forgotten  me  ; 

And  I,  perhaps,  may  soothe  this  heart 
In  thinking  too  of  thee  ; 

Yet  there  was  round  thee  such  a dawn 
Of  light  ne’er  seen  before, 

As  fancy  never  could  have  drawn, 

And  never  can  restore. 


THE 


<5 


-©IF  — 


EILEEN  O'DONOHUE. 

iifpt’HERE’S  a lonely  road  in  Lisnalee, 
And  a huckster’s  house  hard  by  ; 

On  the  landscape  drear  grows  not  a tree, 
Nor  flower  to  cheer  the  eye. 

But  a light  in  the  cabin  window  burns, 
When  the  long  winter  nights  begin, 

And  each  youth  to  the  welcome  beacon 
turns, 

To  game  at  the  humble  inn. 

For  a pack  of  cards  is  in  the  box, 

At  Peggy  O’Shea’s  shebeen  ; 

And  something  else  that’s  sure  to  coax — 
’Tis  duty-free  potheen. 

And  of  all  the  boys  who  11  cut  for  deal,” 
And  gambled  there  till  day, 

The  lightest  of  heart  and  likewise  heel, 
Was  reckless  Daniel  Ray. 

But  Fortune  one  night  Dan  Ray  forsook, 
And  he  being  run  to  earth, 

And  every  brown*  from  his  pocket  shook, 
Sat  silently  by  the  hearth. 

Silent  he  sat  till  one  there  spoke, 

Who  played  at  the  gaming  board, 

His  tale  was  meant  for  a half-sad  joke, 
But  Dan  swallowed  every  word  : 

u Dan  Ray,  if  to  play  you  want  a stake, 
List  to  a tale  that’s  true  : — 

Last  night  at  Laurel  Hill  was  a wake, 
And  to-day  a funeral  too : 

* A penny. 


u The  Flower  of  Laurel  Hill  is  dead, 
Eileen  O’Donohue  ! — 

As  she  kneaded  some  dough  to  make 
cake  bread, 

The  cock  flapped  his  wings  and  crew  ; 

u Eileen  heeded  not  that  warning  crow, 
But  made  her  cake  in  haste, 

And,  as  she  sang,  put  a morsel  of  dough 
Into  her  mouth  to  taste. 

11 A gulp  of  that  convulsed  throat  is 
heard — 

Her  breath  to  carry  it  fails — 

She  struggled — she  sank,  and  ne’er  more 
stirr’d, 

Nor  woke  at  her  mother’s  wails  ! 

• 

u There’s  a ring  of  gold  on  her  finger 
white, 

On  her  neck  a string  of  pearl ; 

For  gems  were  poor  Eileen’s  delight, 

And  they’re  buried  with  the  girl. 

11  Go  seek  her  tomb  in  the  churchyard 
gray—  _ 

She’s  buried  in  old  Ivilmeen.” 

A mocking  smile  on  his  lip  did  play, 

As  he  quaff’d  his  glass  of  potheen. 

One  minute  brooded  Daniel  Ray, 

Then  bright  his  dark  brow  gi’ew, — 

“ Fill  me  a noggin,  Peggy  O’Shea, 

And  lend  me  a crowbar  too. 


Treasury  of  Irish  Eloquence 


REV.  DR.  CAHILL,  D.D 


THE 


TREASURY 

OF 


BEING  A COMPENDIUM  OF 

Svtgl)  Orator?  anD  literature. 


AND  OTHERS. 


EMBRACING  THE  MOST  BRILLIANT  AND  STIRRING  SPEECHES  OF 


EDMUND  BURKE,  HENRY  GRATTAN,  JOHN  PHILPOT  CURRAN,  RICH 
ARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN,  ROBERT  EMMETT,  CHARLES  PHILLIPS, 
RICHARD  LALOR  SHIEL,  DANIEL  O'CONNELL,  REV.  DR. 
CAHILL,  THOS.  FRANCIS  MEAGHER,  THOMAS  D’ARCY 
MAGEE,  ARCHBISHOP  McHALE,  FATHER 
BURKE,  REV.  MICHAEL  B.  BUCK- 
LEY,  MICHAEL  DAVITT, 

A.  M.  SULLIVAN. 


a preface  bn  g.  §.  Jfanan. 

EMBELLISHED  WITH  A FULL  SET  OF  PORTRAITS  ENGRAVED  BY  KILBURN. 


NEW  YORK: 

fflUI^PHY  § (I)G<©AI^JPHY, 

Publishers. 


COPYRIGHT. 

murphy  & McCarthy. 

1887. 


PREFACE. 


Eloquence  is  aptly  defined  as  the  clothing  of  one’s  thoughts  in 
the  most  appropriate  and  effective  language  calculated  to  convince 
the  reason  or  stir  the  emotions.  Eloquence,  then,  like  poetry  and 
the  sister  arts,  is  an  intellectual  gift  of  the  highest  order,  and  re- 
quires in  its  possessor  for  effective  use  in  public  speaking,  essentials 
not  employed  in  the  latter.  The  orator,  in  all  ages,  has  been  the 
leader  in  great  movements,  the  pioneer  of  reforms,  and  the  champion 
of  the  people.  Indeed,  we  may  go  further  and  say,  the  orator  is  the 
high-priest  of  the  temple  of  Liberty ; for  his  voice  is  the  tocsin 
which  summons  her  worshippers,  and  its  echoes  have  often  pene- 
trated even  the  prison  walls,  and  revived  within  the  breast  of  the 
drooping  captive  that  spirit  which  can  never  die,  since  it  is  of  the 
human  soul  an  immortal  aspiration. 

“Eternal  Spirit  of  the  chainless  mind! 

Brightest  in  dungeons  — Liberty  thou  art; 

For  then  thy  habitation  is  the  heart ! ” 

By  some  divine  provision  of  Providence,  as  the  occasion  arose, 
whether  in  early  or  modern  times — in  every  political  convulsion  that 
has  agitated  the  world — the  epoch  gave  birth  to  the  orator  of  his 
race  to  oppose  the  oppression  of  tyrannical  rule,  or  plead  the  public 
cause,  in  the  struggle  for  needed  reforms.  It  was  when  the  ambi- 
tion of  Philip  of  Macedon  led  him  to  attempt  to  e'uslave  the  Athe- 
nians, that  the  figure  of  Demosthenes,  conspicuous  for  all  time  on 
the  pedestal  of  Fame,  arose  in  their  midst,  and  by  the  potency  of 

(V) 


vi  PREFACE. 

his  native  eloquence  aroused  that  latent  fire  of  patriotism,  which 
prompts  even  the  weakest  nation  to  repel  the  invader  and  defend  its 
altars.  So  too,  Rome,  when  treason  was  in  her  ruler  and  corruption 
in  her  senate,  gave  to  the  world  a Cicero,  whose  philippics  are 
handed  down  amongst  the  treasures  of  classical  literature. 

Oratory,  then,  has  had  at  all  times  for  its  highest  inspiration, 
patriotism  ; and  for  its  favorite  theme,  the  wrongs  of  oppressed  races 
trampled  under  the  heel  of  crowned  despotism.  No  nation,  perhaps, 
would  he  less  proud  than  Ireland  undoubtedly  is,  of  the  rich  heri- 
tage which  her  orators  have  left  her  in  their  public  utterances; 
which  are,  for  the  most  part,  powerful  protests  against  tyrannical  op- 
pression, scathing  denunciations  of  wrong,  and  unflinching  assertion 
of  the  principles  of  Truth  and  Justice;  magna  est  veritas  et  preva- 
lent : the  principle,  if  not  the  award  (save  in  a most  stinted  meas- 
ure) of  Justice,  has  at  length  been  conceded,  or  rather  wrung  from, 
the  alien  government  of  that  down-trodden  country ; proving  the 
adage,  that  Truth  will  ultimately  prevail. 

The  orators  of  Ireland  form  a galaxy  of  genius  scarcely  excelled 
in  the  intellectual  firmament  by  any  other  nation.  True,  there  are 
comparatively  few  now  living  who  have  stood  amidst  the  multitude 
to  hear  the  great  tribune  O’Connell,  and  whose  hearts  were  swayed 
by  the  varying  emotions  conjured  up  by  the  magic  of  that  voice, 
even  as  a waving  field  of  corn  bows  at  the-breath  of  the  west  wind. 
It  is  not  given  to  any  of  us  to  have  listened  in  rapt  attention  to  the 
thrilling  tones  of  Grattan,  inveighing  against  the  destruction  of  the 
Constitution  of  ’82,  and  the  Act  of  Union,  against  cut-throat  Cas- 
tlereagh,  and  the  traitors  who  bartered  away  their  country’s  liberty 
for  a mess  of  pottage  ; or  again,  to  have  heard  the  silver  tongue  of 
Curran  in  defence  of  the  United  Irishmen,  before  a perjured  judge 
and  packed  juries.  Their  lips  and  those  of  their  contemporaries  and 
disciples  are  sealed  forever.  But  their  voices  are  not  stilled.  They 
speak  to  us  from  the  shelves  of  every  library,  where  taste  and  cul- 
ture combine  in  the  selection  of  all  that  is  beautiful  in  literature. 


PKEFACE.  Vil 

The  speeches  of  Grattan  are  elaborate  compositions,  not  mere  ex- 
tempore utterances ; and  hence,  may  be  regarded  as  models  of 
forensic  rhetoric.  So,  too,  Curran’s  speeches,  and  also  Shiel’s,  afford 
a rare  treat  to  the  reader,  enriched  as  they  are  with  a wealth  of 
learned  allusion,  apt  simile,  and  sparkling  wit.  Amongst  the 
pulpit  orators  of  Ireland,  the  illustrious  Father  Burke  towers  pre- 
eminent as  a preacher  and  scholar.  His  discourses  are  each  a grand 
superstructure  raised  by  the  chain  of  logical  sequence  on  a sacred 
text  or  historical  contention  ; and  with  him  may  be  ranked  (since 
the  fame  of  both  is  world-wide)  Dr.  Cahill,  distinguished  alike  as  a 
preacher  and  scientist. 

This  volume  presents  to  the  reader  all  that  is  most  excellent  — 
almost  every  gem  — in  the  rich  mine  of  Irish  oratorical  literature. 
Its  title,  “ The  Treasury  of  Irish  Eloquence,”  aptly  describes  its  con- 
tents ; but  it  is,  in  truth,  more  than  a treasury : such  a book  is  a 
treasure,  in  the  full  sense  of  the  word  ; for  it  affords  at  all  times  to 
the  mind  of  the  attentive  reader  a rare  intellectual  treat.  If  he  be 
an  Irishman,  and  has  never  had  the  advantage  of  reading  his  country’s 
history,  he  will  gather  many  facts  of  the  throes  of  her  agony,  when 
the  heroic  efforts  of  her  sons  for  freedom  in  ’98  proved  futile,  and 
she  sank  again  bleeding  under  the  scourge  of  her  relentless  foe. 
These  facts,  and  others  of  prior  and  subsequent  periods,  he  will 
learn  — not  in  the  dry  language  of  history,  but  from  the  burning 
words  of  her  brilliant  orators  at  the  bar  and  in  the  senate. 

To  the  student,  the  debater,  or  the  aspirant  for  honors  on  the 
platform  or  the  pulpit,  the  selections  here  given  are  all  that  is  most 
excellent  in  composition,  copious  and  elegant  in  diction,  and  effective 
in  delivery ; and  many  of  them  are  worthy  to  be  committed  wholly 
or  in  part  to  memory. 

P.  D.  N. 

Boston,  Mass.,  October  1st,  1885. 


Contents. 


Rev  D.  W.  Cahill,  D.  D. : paoi 

Address  delivered  at  Glasgow,  at  the  anniversary  dinner,  on  St. 

Patrick’s  day, S 

The  Fidelity  of  Ireland  in  defence  of  her  Liberties  and  her  Ancient 
Religion:  Lecture  delivered  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  New 

York,  March  17,  1860,  . 21 

Immaculate  Conception, ...  43 

Last  Judgment, 57 

Dr.  Cahill  to  five  Protestant  Clergymen, 75 

Letter  of  Dr.  Cahill,  to  the  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Derby,  . . 84 

Rev.  Michael  Bernard  Buckley: 

Panegyric  on  St.  Finbar,  Patron  Saint  of  the  Diocese  of  Cork, . . 99 

Sermon  on  the  Profession  of  a Nun, 114 

Sermon  on  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary 122 

Lecture  on  the  National  Music  of  Ireland, 131 

Lecture  on  John  Philpot  Curran, 159 

The  Irish  Character  Analyzed, 181 


Very  Rev.  Thomas  N.  Burke,  O.  P. : 

Answers  to  Froude.  First  Lecture  delivered  in  the  Academy  of 


Music,  New  York,  November  12,  1872, 203 

Second  Lecture,  delivered  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York, 

November  14,  1872, 231 

Third  Lecture,  delivered  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York, 

November  19,  1872, 251 

Fourth  Lecture, 269 

Fifth  Lecture, 287 


X 

CONTENTS. 

1 

IION. 

John  Philpot  Curran: 

Pao* 

Speech  on  Attachments, February  24,  1785, 

315 

Speech  on  Orde’s  Commercial  Propositions,  June  bd,  1785, 

321 

Speech  on  Pensions,  March  13,  1786, 

335 

On  Stamp  Officers’  Salaries,  February  4, 1790, 

339 

On  Government  Corruption,  February  12th,  1791,  .... 

345 

On  Catholic  Emancipation,  February  18,  1792, 

355 

In  defence  of  Rev.  William  Jackson,  April  23, 1795,  .... 

362 

Suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus,  October  14, 1796,  .... 

376 

Last  Speech  in  the  Irish  House  of  Commons,  May  15, 1797, 

379 

For  Peter  Finnerty,  Publisher  of  the  “ Press,”  December  22, 1797,  . 

388 

Hon.  Richard  Lalor  Sheil: 

Clare  Election, 

423 

Repeal  of  the  Union, 

Orange  Lodges, 

479 

Irish  Municipal  Bill,  February  22,  1837, 

487 

The  Irish  Catholics.  Speech  at  Penenden  Heath,  October  24,  1828, . 

505 

Speech  in  reply  to  Mr.  McClintock, 

517 

Speech  on  the  Duke  of  York, 

529 

Hon. 

Henry  Grattan: 

Declaration  of  Irish  Rights,  April  19, 1780, 

539 

Philippic  against  Flood,  October  28, 1783, 

556 

Commercial  Propositions,  April  12,  1785, 

561 

Anti-Union  Speeches,  January  15,  1800, 

572 

Anti-Union  Speeches,  May  26,  1800, 

595 

Invective  against  Corry,  February  14,  1800,  ... 

611 

Daniel  O’Connell,  M.  P. : 

Speech  at  Limerick,  1812, 

Speech  in  the  British  Catholic  Association  on  the  Defeat  of  the 

618 

Emancipation  Bill,  May  26,  1825, 

630 

Speech  on  the  Treaty  of  Limerick,  ....  . . 

647 

Speech  at  the  second  Clare  Election, 

659 

Speech  at  Mullaghmast  Monster  Meeting,  September,  1843. 

666 

CONTENTS. 


xi 


Charles  Phillips,  Esq.:  pagb 

A Speech  delivered  at  a Public  Dinner  given  to  Mr.  Finley  by  the 

Roman  Catholics  of  the  Town  and  County  of  Sligo,  . . . 677 

A Speech  delivered  at  an  Aggregate  Meeting  of  the  Roman  Catho- 
lics of  Cork,  . 688 

Speech  delivered  at  a Dinner  given  on  Dinas  Island,  in  the  Lake  of 
Killarney,  on  Mr.  Phillips’  health  being  given  together  with 
that  of  Mr.  Payne,  a young  American,  .....  699 

Speech  delivered  at  an  Aggregate  Meeting  of  the  Roman  Catholics 

of  the  County  and  City  of  Dublin, 704 

Hon.  Edmund  Burke: 

Speech  on  American  Taxation,  April  19th,  1774,  ....  725 

Speech  on  taking  leave  of  the  Electors  of  Bristol,  ....  775 

Select  Passages  on  the  Impeachment  of  Warren  Hastings,  . . 778 


His  Grace  the  Most  Rev.  Dr.  McHale,  Archbishop  op  Tuam  : 

To  the  Most  Rev.  Dr.  Manners,  Protestant  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, Primate  of  all  England : The  Question  of  Divorce  between 

George  IY.  and  his  Queen, 791 

To  the  Most  Rev.  Wm.  Magee,  D.  D.,  Protestant  Archbishop  of 

Dublin, .799 

Dr.  McHale’s  Letter  to  Lord  Bexley, 806 

To  the  Protestant  Archbishop  of  Tuam, 814 

Christmas  Day  at  the  Vatican, 818 


Letter  from  Rome:  Visit  to  the  Pope.  A Manuscript  Letter  of 

Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  The  Tombs  of  O’Neil  and  O’Donnell,  etc.,  824 

A.  M.  Sullivan,  M.  P. : 

Address  delivered  by  A.  M.  Sullivan,  M.  P.,  in  his  own  defence,  in 

Green  Street  Court-House,  Dublin,  February  20, 1868,  . . 833 

Richard  Brinslet  Sheridan: 

Speech  delivered  in  Opposition  to  Pitt’s  first  income  tax,  . . . 859 

Robert  Emmet: 

Powerful  address  of  Robert  Emmet,  delivered  at  his  trial  before 

Lord  Norbury,  Sept.  19,  1803, 869 


CONTENTS. 


xii 

Michael  Davitt  : 

Future  Policy  of  Irish  Nationalists, 

Thomas  Francis  Meagher: 

Speech  at  Conciliation  Hall,  Dublin,  July  28,  1846,  . 

Thomas  D’Arct  McGee: 

Speech  before  the  Irish  Protestant  Benevolent  Society,  Quebec, 
May,  1862, 


Pagb 

879 


897 


907 


ADDRESSES,  LECTURES  and  SERMONS. 

BY 

Rev,  D,  W,  Cahill 


Rev,  Dr,  Cahill’s  Address, 

Delivered  at  Glasgow,  at  the  Anniversary  Dinner  on 
St.  Patrick’s  Day. 


. CHAIRMAN  and  beloved  Fellow-Countrymen,  — I do 
believe  there  is  no  nation  in  the  world  able  to  shout 
with  the  Irish.  Our  countryman,  Dean  Swift,  counselled 
j the  Irish  people,  in  his  day,  not  to  make  speeches  at  public 

meetings,  for  fear  of  the  Attorney  General.  " Do  not  speak,”  said 
he,  " when  you  meet,  as  the  law  may  punish  you  : but  there  is  no 
law  against  shouting, — hence,  groan  and  shout.”  And  from  that 
day  to  this,  we  can  groan  and  shout  better  than  any  people  in  the 
whole  world.  Till  I came  here  on  this  evening,  I thought  I could 
never  forgive  either  Lord  J.  Russell  or  Lord  Palmerston ; but  the 
speakers  who  have  preceded  me  have  inflicted  such  a castigation  on 
them,  that,  with  your  kind  permission,  I will  forgive  them,  — not  in 
this  world,  — but  in  the  next.  For  this  purpose,  I must  have  the 
key  of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  also  the  key  of  the  other  place, 
in  order  that,  when  I first  let  them  out,  I can  next  let  them  in. 

Mr.  Chairman,  you  have  exaggerated  my  small  services  in  refer- 
ence to  the  public  letters  which  I have  written.  Whatever  merit  I 
may  have,  consisted  in  my  knowing  well  the  history  of  Ireland. 
The  history  of  other  countries  is  learned  from  the  cool  pen  of  the 
historian,  but  that  of  Ireland  is  learned  from  the  crimsoned  tombs 
of  the  dead.  The  history  of  other  nations  is  collected  from  the 
growing  population  and  successful  commerce,  but  the  sad  story  of 
Ireland  is  gathered  from  the  deserted  village,  the  crowded  poor- 
- house,  and  the  mournful  swelling  canvas  of  the  emigrant  ship.  You 
gave  me  too  much  credit  for  those  slender  productions  of  mine,  and 


4 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


perhaps  you  are  not  aware  that  it  was  on  the  graves  of  the  starved 
and  shroudless  victims  of  English  misrule  I stood  when  I indited  the 
epistles.  I dated  them  from  the  grave-pits  of  Sligo  and  the  fever- 
sheds  of  Skibbereen.  If  I seemed  to  weep,  it  was  because  I fol- 
lowed to  coffinless  tombs  tens  of  thousands  of  my  poor,  persecuted 
fellow-countrymen  ; and  if  my  descriptions  appeared  tinged  with 
red,  it  was  because  I dipped  my  pen  in  their  fresh  bleeding  graves 
in  order  to  give  suitable  coloring  to  the  terrific  page  on  which  a cruel 
fate  has  traced  the  destinies  of  Ireland.  It  was  not  my  mind  but  my 
bosom  that  dictated  ; it  was  not  my  pen  but  my  heart  that  wrote  the 
record. 

And  where  is  the  Irishman  who  would  not  feel  an  involuntary 
impulse  of  national  pride  in  asserting  the  invincible  genius  of  our 
own  creed  while  he  gazes  on  the  crumbling  walls  of  our  ancient 
churches,  which,  even  in  their  old  age,  lift  their  hoary  heads  as  faith- 
ful witnesses  of  the  past  struggles  of  our  faith,  and  still  stand  in 
their  massive  frame-work,  resisting  to  the  last  the  power  of  the 
despoiler,  and  scarcely  yielding  to  the  inevitable  stroke  of  time? 
And  where  is  the  heart  so  cold,  that  would  not  pour  forth  a boiling 
torrent  of  national  anger  at  seeing  the  children  of  forty  generations 
consigned  to  a premature  grave,  or  banished  by  cruel  laws  to  seek 
amongst  the  strangers  the  protection  they  are  refused  at  home  ? 

Nature  does  not  deny  a home  to  the  untutored  savage  that  wanders 
naked  over  L er  boundless  domain  ; even  the  maternal  genius  of  the 
inhospitable  forest  gives  a welcome  asylum  to  her  young  ; she  brings 
them  forth  from  her  bare  womb,  suckles  them  on  her  stormy  bosom, 
and  feeds  them  at  her  desert  streams.  She  teaches  them  to  kneel 
beneath  the  dark  canopy  with  which  she  shrouds  the  majesty  of  her 
inaccessible  rocks  ; she  warns  them  to  flee  from  danger  in  the  moan- 
ing voice  of  the  unchained  tempests,  and  she  clothes  her  kingdom 
in  verdure  and  sunlight  to  cheer  them  in  their  trackless  home.  "Well 
has  the  divine  heart  of  Campbell  given  a preference  to  the  savage 
beast  over  the  ill-fated  lot  of  the  exiled  Irishman,  in  these  immortal 
lines  which  express  the  history  of  our  nation  : — 

“ Where  is  my  cabin  door  fast  by  the  wildwood, 

Where  is  my  sire  that  wept  for  its  fall  ? 

Where  is  the  mother  that  watched  o’er  my  childhood? 

Where  is  my  bosom  friend,  dearer  than  all? 


REV.  DR.  CAHILL.  9 

familiar  with  their  hard  trials,  and  feel  intensely  their  dire  fate: 
and,  in  the  midst  of  all  their  misfortunes,  they  never  lose  the  native 
affections  of  their  warm  Irish  hearts. 

About  the  year  1849  I went  on  board  an  emigrant  ship  at  the 
custom-house  in  Dublin  in  order  to  see  the  accommodation  of  the 
poor  emigrants.  While  walking  on  the  deck,  I saw  a decent  poor 
man  from  the  County  Meath,  with  the  ugliest  dog  I ever  beheld  in 
his  arms.  He  seemed  to  be  keeping  up  a kind  of  private  conversa- 
tion with  this  dog,  and  occasionally  he  kissed  him  so  affectionately, 
that  I was  led  to  speak  to  him,  and  made  some  inquiry  about  him. 
He  told  me  that  the  dog’s  name  was  Brandy,  that  he  and  his  mother 
were  in  his  family  for  several  years,  and  that  he  was  the  same  age 
as  his  youngest  child.  He  continued  to  say,  that  on  the  day  he  was 
ejected,  and  his  house  thrown  down,  Brandy’s  house  was  thrown 
down  too ; in  fact,  that  the  poor  dog  was  exterminated  as  well  as 
himself.  That  he  took  pity  on  him,  brought  him  to  Dublin,  paid 
fifteen  shillings  for  his  passage  to  America,  and  that  he  would  sup- 
port him  with  his  children  as  long  as  he  lived.  While  we  were  speak- 
ing, the  dog  began  to  bark ; on  which  I inquired  what  he  was  bark- 
ing at.  "Oh!  sir,”  said  he,  "he  knows  we  are  talking  about  the 
_andlord.  Ho  knows  his  name  as  well  as  I do,  and  the  creature 
always  cries  and  roars  when  he  hears  his  name  mentioned.” 

Oh,  many  a trial  the  poor  Irish  have  endured  during  the  last  six 
years  ! Many  a volume  could  be  filled  with  the  cruel  persecution  of 
the  faithful  Irish.  From  Galway  to  America,  the  track  of  the  ship 
is  marked  by  the  whitened  bones  of  the  murdered  Irish  that  lie 
along  the  bottom  of  the  abysses  of  the  moaning  ocean.  And  yet 
those  that  have  reached  the  friendly  shore  still  drag  a heavy  chain 
which  binds  them  to  their  native  land ; still  they  long  to  see  their 
own  beloved  hills,  and  lay  their  bones  with  the  ancient  dead  of  their 
Faith  and  their  kindred.  And  if  death  summons  them  beyond  the 
Mississippi,  or  amidst  the  snows  of  Canada,  or  the  pestilence  of 
Mexico,  they  turn  their  fading  eyes  towards  the  day-star  that  rises 
oT*er  Ireland,  and  their  last  prayer  is  offered  to  Heaven  for  the 
'.oerty  of  their  counti-y  — the  last  sigh  to  God  is  made  for  the  free- 
dom of  her  altars. 


10  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Rev,  Dr.  Cahill's  Address  to  the  Catholics  of 

Glasgow, 


R.  CHAIRMAN,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  — I am  laboring 
on  the  present  occasion  under  a deficiency,  for  which  I am 
convinced  you  will  pardon  me,  namely,  I am  afraid  you 
will  not  understand  me  in  consequence  of  my  Irish  accent.  I 
now  beg  to  tell  you,  with  the  deepest  feeling  of  a lasting  gratitude, 
that,  although  I have  received  many  marks  of  public  favor  hereto- 
fore in  Ireland  and  in  England,  I have  never  found  myself  placed  in 
a position  of  such  exalted  distinction  as  on  the  present  occasion. 
Surrounded  as  I am,  not  by  hundreds  but  by  thousands  of  gentle- 
men and  ladies,  by  priests  and  people,  I return  my  homage  for  your 
advocacy,  on  this  evening,  of  a great  principle  in  thus  honoring  the 
individual  who  now  addresses  you. 

Your  eloquent  and  valued  address,  written  on  satin  in  golden 
letters,  shall  be  preserved  by  me  as  long  as  I live ; it  is  a model  of 
exquisite  taste,  and  conveys  impressions  of  affection  which  I shall 
carefully  bind  up  with  the  most  cherished  feelings  of  my  life  ; but 
there  is  an  eloquence  of  soul  which  the  golden  ink  could  not  ex- 
press ; and  that  silent  thrilling  language  must  be  read  in  the  merry 
faces,  the  sparkling  looks,  and  ardent  bosoms  which  reveal  to  my 
inmost  heart  the  sincerity  and  the  intensity  of  your  feeling  towards 
me. 

In  associating  me  in  the  most  remote  connection  with  the  great 
O’Connell,  you  do  me  an  honor  which  would  raise  even  a great  man 
to  imperishable  fame ; as  you  illume  me  with  a ray  from  that  im- 
mortal name  which  sheds  unfading  lustre  on  the  records  of  Ireland’s 
saddest  and  brightest  history,  and  which  will  live  in  the  burning 
affections  of  the  remotest  posterity  of  a grateful  country.  I am 


REV.  DR.  CAHILL. 


21 


Rev,  Dr,  Cahill’s  Lecture, 

Delivered  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York,  March  17th, 
1860. — "The  Fidelity  of  Ireland  in  Defence  of  her 
Liberties  and  her  Ancient  Religion.” 


ADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN,  — I assure  you,  though  I have 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  here  before,  I never  was  so 
yy  completely  overpowered  in  my  life  as  upon  the  present  occa- 
.Atki  sion.  I have  made  a bow  to  you  as  gracefully  as  I could, 
Iff  endeavoring  to  acknowledge  the  compliment  you  have  paid 
me,  but  that  was  with  the  front  of  my  head.  As  there  are  a great 
many  of  my  friends  at  my  back,  and  as  I am  not  able  to  make  a bow 
with  the  back  of  my  head,  permit  me  to  turn  about  and  make  a bow 
to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  behind  me.  I am  endeavoring  to  take 
in  breath  to  give  myself  voice  to  fill  this  most  extensive  hall.  Since 
I have  had  the  pleasure  of  being  here  with  you,  I have  addressed 
large  assemblies  in  the  city  of  New  York  and  elsewhere ; but 
whether  it  is  the  height  of  the  hall,  or  whether  it  is  my  excitement, 
I think  this  is  the  largest  assembly  I have  ever  seen  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  life.  I never  shall  forget  the  compliment  paid  to  me 
to  come  here  this  day.  It  is  not  so  much  the  delight  of  meeting 
you  here  as  the  delight  I experienced  in  witnessing  your  glorious 
procession.  I came  from  the  city  of  Troy  yesterday.  (A  voice  — 
Where  were  you?)  I like  to  see  you  all  up  to  concert  pitch,  and  I 
would  be  a bad  performer,  indeed,  if  we  don’t  have  abundance  of 
melody  this  evening.  I little  thought  of  the  glorious  satisfaction 
that  awaited  me  in  looking  at  your  procession.  I assure  you  I never 
felt  more  proud  of  Irishmen  than  on  this  day.  I have  been  told  that 
if  I had  been  present  at  the  Cathedral  this  morning  I would  have 


22  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

learned  eloquence  from  the  most  beautiful  and  polished  discourse  of 
the  gentleman  who  preached  there  to-day.  I am  sorry  I could  not 
be  there.  It  is  a loss  I shall  regret  as  long  as  I live. 

When  I went  out  to  look  at  the  procession  I was  delighted  to  see 
the  number  of  banners,  the  cap  of  liberty  over  the  harp  of  Ireland  ; 
and  what  I was  very  glad  to  see  was  the  American  flag  side  by  side 
with  every  banner  as  it  passed  my  hotel.  The  stars  and  stripes  went, 
if  I may  use  the  phrase,  hand  in  hand  with  the  harp  of  Ireland. 
How  I longed  to  be  a great  man,  as  I saw  every  one  uncover  his 
head  as  he  passed  the  statue  of  Washington.  I was  delighted  to  sec 
such  worship,  if  I may  so  speak,  offered  to  the  memory  of  the  dead. 
Thousands  of  men  taking  off  their  hats  and  bending  themselves  in 
humble  posture  as  they  passed  by  the  "Father  of  his  Country.”  I 
was  delighted  to  see  one  man  drive  six  horses,  but  my  astonishment 
was  drowned  when  eight  horses  came  afterwards,  to  see  the  crowded 
reins  in  the  hands  of  the  skilful  driver.  Then  I beheld  the  men  clad 
in  armor  passing  along,  and  I saw  the  forest  of  steel  lifted  above  the 
harp  of  Ireland.  A suggestive  idea  presented  itself  to  my  mind  as 
I saw  brave  men,  in  regular  military  step,  with  their  muskets  lifted, 
their  bayonets  fixed,  and  there,  going  before,  beside,  and  after,  the 
glorious  harp  of  Ireland. 

I saw  the  cavalry,  the  soldiers  mounted  on  their  beautiful  horses, 
and  they  held  their  swords  so  much  to  my  taste,  and  they  moved  so 
regular,  and  the  whole  procession  was  so  orderly.  There  were  Ire- 
land and  America  joined  in  the  two  emblems,  the  Irish  harp  and  the 
American  stripes  and  stars.  But  I was  greatly  astonished  when  I 
saw  a man  driving  twelve  horses.  The  horses  seemed  to  go  by  the 
same  kind  of  sense  as  if  they  were  twelve  human  beings.  When  I 
saw  the  driver  with  the  bundle  of  reins  in  his  hand,  and  the  horses 
moving  with  such  regularity  and  precision,  I said,  I would  like  to 
know  the  name  of  that  driver.  That  man  must  be  from  Tipperary, 
and  his  name  O’Connell,  for  that  is  just  the  way  O’Connell  used  to 
drive  a coach  and  four  through  every  act  of  Parliament. 

So  you  see  I have  been  looking  sharply ; and  my  weakness  was 
such,  if  you  so  call  it,  that,  as  the  whole  scene  passed  before  me, 
and  my  heart  upon  Ireland,  tears,  Irish  tears,  stood  in  my  eyes. 
Perhaps  these  tears  made  the  men  look  bigger  and  finer,  but  I 
thought  they  were  the  finest  men  I ever  saw.  I have  seen  the 


REV.  DR.  CAHILL.  43 


The  Immaculate  Conception, 

A Sermon  Delivered  by  Rev.  Dr.  Cahill,  in  St.  James’  Cathe- 
dral, Brooklyn,  on  Sunday,  March  25, 1860,  for  the  Benefit 
of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy. 


^P^EAREST  BRETHREN,  — Mankind  since  the  beginning  of  the 
world  never  saw  such  a day  as  the  anniversary  we  are  now 
met  to  celebrate.  This  is  the  25th  of  March,  the  date  of  the 
l Annunciation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the  festival  being  put  off 
till  to-morrow,  but  we  meet  to  celebrate  it  on  this  day  for  a purpose 
of  my  own,  and  I again  repeat  that  up  to  that  period  and  perhaps 
since,  mankind  never  did  or  never  will  behold  such  a day  as  the  an- 
niversary we  now  celebrate.  God  the  Father,  in  a week  painted  the 
skies  — a great  work.  He  took  out  His  imperial  compasses,  and  He 
swept  the  wide  arch  of  the  Universe  and  within  the  circle  He  put  all 
things  that  the  eye  can  behold.  He  painted  the  gorgeous  and  glo- 
rious colors  that  we  see  above  us.  But  the  day  that  the  Second 
Person  of  the  Trinity,  the  Son  of  God,  deigned  to  unite  Himself 
with  our  nature  — to  descend  as  it  were  from  His  throne  to  unite 
Himself  with  man,  to  elevate  man  to  Heaven,  above  the  angels  — 
the  day  that  He  did  this  is  without  exception  the  greatest  and  the 
most  glorious  that  mankind  ever  met  to  celebrate. 

You  are  aware  that  when  Adam  fell  the  gates  of  Heaven  were 
bolted  against  him  and  his  posterity.  But  yesterday  a heap  of  clay, 
to-day  an  organized  being  with  an  immortal  soul,  who  could  have 
ever  supposed  he  could  rebel  against  God,  his  Father  — his  Creator? 
Who  could  have  supposed  that  he  would  have  been  so  mad  as  to 
forfeit  for  an  apple  his  glorious  privileges  ? The  day  Heaven  was 
bolted  against  him  his  race  was  excluded,  the  earth  on  which  he  stood 


44  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

was  cursed,  God  withdrew  his  immediate  patronage  from  him,  and 
the  darkness  of  night  settled  down  like  a cloud  over  the  whole  earth. 
But  sec  how  great  is  the  justice  of  God,  how  impenetrable  Ilis  ways, 
how  unsearchable  Ilis  judgments,  what  may  be  called  His  just  ven- 
geance after  thousands  of  years,  during  which  the  earth  was  covered 
with  pitch  darkness  and  man  excluded,  only  to  be  saved  by  a belief 
in  a future  day  of  hope.  It  is  on  this  day  that  Heaven  begins  to  be 
reconciled  to  man,  and  the  Second  Person  of  the  Trinity  begins  to 
be  united  with  our  nature.  Think  till  fancy  is  exhausted,  and  who 
could  have  supposed  that  a rebel  could  be  so  lifted.  The  Son  of  God, 
long  before  the  foundation  of  the  world  was  laid,  long  before  the 
Heaven  of  the  angels  was  formed,  long  before  a single  creature  was 
created,  long  before  Adam  was  made,  addressed  His  Father  and  said  : 
Father,  it  is  written  in  the  head  of  the  book  that  You  could  not  be 
pleased  with  the  blood  of  goats  and  oxen.  It  is  written  in  the  head 
of  the  book,  in  the  very  first  of  Our  transactions,  that  these  sacri- 
fices could  not  please  You,  and  behold  I come  to  offer  myself.  Man 
will  fall  — I know  it,  because  I see  into  futurity.  I know  that  Adam 
will  fall  and  I know  that  he  can  never  redeem  himself.  How  could 
darkness  produce  light?  How  could  crime  produce  virtue?  How 
can  the  rebel  who  is  finite,  pay  off  a debt  which  is  infinite?  How 
can  finity  pay  infinity?  Therefore,  Father,  do  You  recollect  it  was 
entered  into  the  book  of  Our  transactions  — it  was  not  even  at  the 
end  of  the  first  page,  but  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  first  page  — 
what  St.  Paul  calls  the  masterpiece  of  the  power  and  wisdom  of 
God.  Man  cannot  pay  You,  therefore  I stand  before  You  in  My 
bare  head,  and  I say,  pour  upon  My  head  the  vials  of  Your  wrath. 
Under  the  imputability  of  sin  here  I come  as  the  only  mode  of  com- 
pensation, and  pour  upon  Me  the  vials  of  Your  I’eddest  wrath. 

Four  thousand  years  elapsed  before  that  eternal  promise  was 
fulfilled,  but  as  sure  as  God  lives  that  promise  was  to  be  fulfilled, 
aud  therefore  this  is  the  day  — the  25th  of  March  — when  the  Angel 
Gabriel  announced  to  Mary  that  this  great  compact  was  to  be  realized, 
and  that  God  was  to  be  united  with  man.  And  He  stood  before  the 
throne  of  God  as  a criminal  to  pay  the  infinite  debt  which  Adam  in- 
curred by  his  transgression.  This  is  decidedly  the  most  important 
fact  that  ever  the  Church  of  God  could  celebrate.  I have,  therefore, 
taken  advantage  of  this  festival  to  discuss  for  you  one  of  the  most 


KEY.  DR.  CAHILL.  57 


j 


The  Last  Judgment, 

A Sermon  Delivered  by  Very  Rev.  D.  W.  Cahill,  D.D.,  in 
St.  Peter’s  Church,  Barclay  Street,  New  York,  on  Sunday 
Evening,  November  29,  1863. 


Jp|EAREST  BRETHREN,  — God’s  word  contains  no  subject 
jjL/;  that  is  presented  in  such  majestic  grandeur,  such  withering 
fc1  terror,  and  yet  such  infinite  joy,  as  the  Gospel  of  this  day 

■L  which  I have  just  read  for  you.  One  does  not  know  what 

fact  on  this  awful  day  is  most  wonderful ; whether  we  consider  the 
end  of  time,  the  destruction  of  the  world,  the  multitudinous  congre- 
gation of  all  men,  the  fate  of  the  damned,  and  the  glories  of  the 
blessed  — yet  incomprehensible  as  are  all  these  considerations,  they 
all  fade,  when  compared  with  the  majesty  of  God  on  that  day,  sitting 
in  imperial  triumph  on  the  clouds,  surrounded  by  the  whole  Court 
of  Angels  and  Saints.  It  is  the  great  day  reserved  in  Heaven  for 
celebrating  the  triumph  of  virtue  over  vice,  the  dominion  of  the 
Saviour  over  the  power  of  Satan  — the  most  awful  hour  Eternity  ever 
saw.  It  is  the  mightiest  moment  in  the  life  of  God  ; it  is  the  end  of 
Christ’s  mission  on  earth ; the  consummation  of  all  the  mysteries 
God  ever  published ; the  final  sentence  of  the  wicked,  when  God 
and  those  they  love  are  separated  forever.  In  a word,  the  Gospel 
of  this  day  presents  in  one  large  view  everthing  glorious  in  Heaven, 
terrible  in  Hell,  awful  in  Eternity,  and  great  in  God.  It  is  a picture 
worthy  of  God,  representing  *at  once  Earth,  Hell,  Heaven,  with  their 
unnumbered  populations.  No  serious  man  can  behold  it  without 
thrilling  astonishment ; no  Christian,  however  perfect,  can  look  on 
it  without  terror;  no  sinner  can  believe  it  without  amendment.  As 
time  once  began,  so  time  now  ends.  Only  one  condition  of  things 


58 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


now  remains,  namely,  Eternity.  Time  is  past  on  this  day;  a mere 
second  of  existence  in  the  life  of  God. 

How  wonderful  is  human  language  : though  creatures  of  a moment, 
we  can  discuss  things  eternal ; though  mere  worms,  we  can  paint 
things  omnipotent : like  the  broken  fragment  of  a mirror,  reflecting 
the  whole  firmament,  in  our  slender  phrase  we  can  describe  the  in- 
finitude of  God.  In  all  past  scenes  up  to  the  present  moment, 
everything  on  earth  was  finite,  limited.  It  was  man  who  was  the 
actor,  and  time  was  the  condition  of  things.  God  is  the  actor  on 
this  day,  and  Eternity  is  the  condition.  It  is  all  infinity.  This  day 
is  the  day  of  Christ.  He  summons  all  the  dead  : He  commands  all 
Hell : He  is  accompanied  by  all  Heaven.  No  tongue  can,  of  course, 
tell  this  scene.  The  soul’s  silent  contemplation  can  best  behold  any 
part  of  it.  What  brush,  or  what  artist,  could  paint  the  sun  in  its 
meridian  glory  ? One  glance  at  his  burnished  flood  of  gold  will  ex- 
hibit him  best.  And  who  can  describe  the  Redeemer  on  Ilis  own 
day  of  power  and  glory?  St.  Luke  but  faintly  tells  it  when  he 
says  : " The  powers  of  Heaven  shall  be  moved,  and  then  they  shall 
see  the  Son  of  Man  coming  in  a cloud,  in  great  power  and  majesty.” 

When  the  day  of  general  judgment  will  come,  no  mortal  can  tell : 
the  highest  Archangel  round  God’s  throne  cannot  know  it : it  is  among 
the  eternal  secrets  of  His  own  mind.  It  is  a future  free  act  of  His 
independent  will ; and  no  creature  can  unlock  the  depths  of  God’s 
liberty.  We  resemble  Him  in  our  spiritual  essence  to  a small  ex- 
tent : we  know  the  past  and  the  present,  in  our  own  limited  circle  of 
time.  The  angelic  essence  knows  the  past  and  the  present  in  a 
wider  circle  of  knowledge  : but  no  creature,  however  exalted,  can 
know  the  future,  unless  God  reveals  it.  Futurity  can  have  no  real 
existence,  since  it  has  not  as  yet  commenced  to  exist.  It  is  solely 
confined  to  the  mind  of  God,  the  internal  mind  of  God  : and  is  there- 
fore essentially  beyond  the  reach  of  the  highest  creature.  We  only 
know  that  the  terrible  day  of  judgment  will  certainly  arrive  in  some 
future  revolving  century.  The  same  Almighty  word  that  called  all 
things  into  being  has  spoken  it : the  same  unerring  testimony  that 
built  Nature  has  described  its  future  wreck.  The  feelings,  the  mad- 
dening agonies,  the  very  words  of  the  burning  inhabitants  are 
minutely  detailed  by  the  language  of  Christ  Himself.  The  world, 
therefore,  destroyed  by  future  fire  under  the  anger  of  God,  is  as 


7G  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

your  unauthorized  assumption  of  calling  yourselves  "the  ministers  of 
God  and  embassadors  of  Christ ; ” and  I complain  loudly  of  your 
most  unjustifiable  intrusion  in  designating  3’our  modern  local  con- 
venticle by  the  name  of  the  "Catholic  Church.”  Gentlemen,  I 
assure  you  I do  not  mean,  even  remotely,  to  utter  one  offensive 
sentiment  to  you  personally  by  telling  you  that  you  are  libelling 
God  and  calumniating  the  Apostles  in  using  this  language.  You 
are,  on  the  contrary,  the  ecclesiastical  ministers  of  the  British  Par- 
liament, you  are  the  clerical  embassadors  of  the  Queen  of  England, 
and  you  are  the  rebel  children  of  the  most  terrific  apostasy  the  world 
ever  saw.  The  Thirty-nine  articles  of  your  creed  (which  learned 
Protestants  call  contradictory  and  incongruous)  are  the  accidental 
remit  of  a majority  of  voices  in  the  British  senate-house  of  that  day. 
This  act  of  Parliament  forms  the  preface  of  your  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  and  the  decisions  of  that  Parliamentary  session  are  unavow- 
edly  the  very  basis  and  the  theological  title  of  the  Anglican  creed, 
as  expressed  in  these  Articles.  In  point  of  fact,  and  according  to 
the  language  of  the  English  Parliament,  that  creed  should  be  appro- 
priately called  a "bill,”  like  any  other  Parliamentary  bill  passed  by 
a majority  in  that  house.  Beyond  all  doubt,  its  proper  name  should 
be  "the  Protestant  Religion  Bill,”  or  some  other  such  designation, 
proceeding,  as  it  does,  professedly,  and  originating  officially  from 
the  decision  of  the  senate-house,  and  from  the  authority  of  the 
Crown.  The  authority  does  not  even  pretend  to  be  derived  from 
Christ,  as  it  acknowledges  itself  to  be  fallible,  and,  of  course,  pro- 
gressive and  human. 

O 

And  the  Prime  Minister  of  England  can  lay  aside  any  of  your 
present  opinions  when  he  thinks  fit,  as  was  recently  proved  in  tLe 
case  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gorham  ; and  the  Queen  can  annul  the  united 
doctrinal  decision  of  your  national  convocation  at  her  pleasure. 
Argue  this  case  as  you  will,  and  call  this  authorit}'  by  whatever 
name  you  please,  there  it  is,  the  supreme  arbiter  of  your  Church, 
the  essential  sanction  and  source  of  your  faith.  Thus,  in  point  of 
fact,  you  pray  to  God  as  the  Premier  likes  ; and  you  believe  in  God 
as  the  Queen  pleases ; and  you  multiply  or  diminish  the  articles  of 
your  " Religion  Bill”  as  the  Parliament  decides.  You  are,  there- 
fore, judicially  and  officially,  the  very  creatures  of  the  State ; and 
you  wear  your  surplices  and  preach  by  precisely  the  same  authority 


REV.  DR.  CAHILL.  g3 

mented  by  your  attendance  at  my  lectures  on  the  Holy  Sacrifice  ol 
the  Mass,  and  I have  felt  rather  honored  by  the  united  note  of  the 
five  Protestant  clergymen,  transmitted  to  me  through  the  courtesy 
of  the  Protestant  Archdeacon  of  Eaphoe,  and  the  brother-in-law  of 
our  late  Viceroy.  I have  not,  I hope,  in  any  words  which  escaped 
me  at  that  lecture,  uttered  any  sentiment  which  could  offend ; and  I 
here  disclaim  again  intending  to  say  one  word  in  this  note  (beyond 
my  own  professional  duty)  to  give  the  smallest  uneasiness  to  gentle- 
men towards  whom  I feel  much  personal  respect,  and  to  whom  I beg 
unfeignedly  to  offer  the  expression  of  high  and  distinguished  con- 
sideration. 

I have  the  honor  to  be,  Rev.  Sirs,  your  obedient  servant, 

D.  W.  Cahill,  D.  D. 

P.  S.  — As  you  have  gratuitously  originated  this  correspondence, 
you  can  have  no  claim  on  me  for  its  continuance  ; and,  therefore,  I 
respectfully  decline  taking  any  further  notice  of  any  letters  which 
you  may  do  me  the  honor  to  send  me  in  future. 


84  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Letter  of  the  Rev,  Dr,  Cahill  to  the  Right  Hon, 
The  Earl  of  Derby, 


New  Brighton,  Saturday,  October  21,  1852. 

LORD  EARL,  — Some  few  months  asm  our  gracious 
Queen,  in  a speech  from  the  throne,  very  emphatically  an- 
nounced her  royal  determination  to  uphold  the  principles  of 
the  Protestant  Church,  and  she  called  on  her  servants  there 
assembled,  in  her  presence,  to  assist  her  in  maintaining  the  liberties 
of  the  Protestant  Constitution.  There  must  be,  my  Lord,  in  the 
royal  mind  some  hidden  fear  of  this  Church  being  in  danger,  in 
order  to  account  for  the  large  space  which  this  idea  has  taken  up  in 
the  royal  oration.  If  this  declaration  had  been  made  by  your  Lord- 
ship,  or  by  any  one  of  the  present  Ministry,  it  would  still  command 
an  important  attention ; but  when  it  proceeds  from  the  head  of  your 
Church  — from  the  ecumenical  source  of  all  Protestant  truth,  it 
comes  before  the  world  invested  with  all  the  realities  of  Parliamen- 
tary gravity  and  English  history.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I 
do  agree  with  the  sentiments  deduced  from  a royal  speech ; and  I 
do,  therefore,  believe  that  your  Church  is  in  imminent  danger  at 
the  present  moment ; and  I believe,  moreover,  that  neither,  her  most 
gracious  Majesty,  with  all  her  royal  power,  my  Lord  John  Russell, 
with  the  base  Whigs,  nor  your  Lordship,  with  the  most  judicious 
combination  of  Whig  and  Tory  which  your  skill  in  Parliamentary 
chemistry  can  produce,  will  be  able  to  stay  much  longer  the  down- 
fall of  an  institution  which  is  a libel  on  God’s  Gospel,  a fortress  for 
public  injustice,  and  the  scandalous  disturber  of  our  national  peace. 
The  danger  to  be  apprehended,  however,  will  not  proceed,  in  the 
first  instance,  from  an  external  enemy  ; it  will  come  from  her  long 


SERMONS  AND  LECTURES. 

BY 

Rev,  Michael  Bernard  Buckley. 


t sr  * 


Sermon, 


Panegyric  of  Saint  Finbar,  Patron  Saint  of  the  Diocese  oi 

Cork.* 


[Rev.  Michael  Bernard  Buckley,  the  eloquent  preacher,  and  graduate  of  Maynooth 
College,  Dublin,  from  whose  numerous  lectures  in  the  United  States,  in  1870,  and 
elsewhere,  we  take  the  following,  was  born  in  Cork,  March  9th,  1831,  and  died  in 
the  same  city,  May  17th,  1872.] 


“ The  wise  man  shall  seek  out  the  wisdom  of  all  the  ancients,  and  will  be  occupied 
in  the  prophets  ...  he  will  give  his  heart  to  resort  early  to  the  Lord  that  made 
him,  and  he  will  pray  in  the  sight  of  the  Most  High.  He  will  pour  forth  the  words 
of  his  wisdom  as  showers,  and  in  his  prayer  he  will  confess  to  the  Lord.  ...  He 
shall  shew  forth  the  discipline  he  hath  learned,  and  shall  glory  in  the  law  of  the 
covenant  of  the  Lord.  Many  shall  praise  his  wisdom  and  it  shall  never  be  forgotten. 
The  memory  of  him  shall  not  depart  away,  and  his  name  shall  be  in  request  from 
generation  to  generation.  Nations  shall  declare  his  wisdom,  and  the  Church  shall 
shew  forth  his  praise.”  — Ecclesiasticus,  xxxix.  1,  and  following  verses. 

fpj EARLY  BELOVED  BRETHREN,— We  are  assembled  here 
to-night  to  celebrate  the  memory  of  a great  and  glorious 
^ Saint  of  the  Church  of  God,  of  whose  character  and  history 
•l  those  words  of  divine  wisdom  appear  to  me  to  afford  a most 
perfect  and  apposite  delineation.  Throughout  the  entire  course  of 
the  narrative  which  I shall  deliver  to  you  of  his  life,  you  cannot  but 
perceive  the  faithful  aptitude  of  the  description  ; you  cannot  fail  to 
observe  how  diligently  he  sought  out  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients, 
and  how  he  was  occupied  in  the  prophets  — how  he  gave  his  heart 
to  resort  early  to  the  Lord  that  made  him,  and  how  he  prayed  in  the 
sight  of  the  Most  High  — how  he  poured  forth  the  words  of  his 
wisdom  in  showers  — how  he  showed  forth  the  discipline  he  had 

* U -eachod  in  the  Church  of  St.  Einbar,  Cork,  September  27,  1863. 

(99) 


100 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


learned,  and  gloried  in  the  law  of  the  covenant  of  the  Lord.  And 
you  will  also  see  with  what  prophetic  truth  the  posthumous  fame  of 
the  Saint  has  been  described  by  the  Wise  Man  when  he  says,  " Many 
shall  praise  his  wisdom,  and  it  shall  never  be  forgotten  — the  memory 
of  him  shall  not  depart  away,  and  his  name  shall  be  in  request  from 
generation  to  generation.  Nations  shall  declare  his  wisdom,  and 
the  Church  shall  shew  forth  his  praise.”  I come  not  to  describe  to 
you  to-night  the  life  and  actions  of  any  great  hero  of  this  world.  I 
do  not  seek  to  awaken  your  admiration  by  describing  the  exploits  of 
some  famous  general,  or  the  diplomatic  tactics  of  some  celebrated 
statesman.  Mine  is  no  story  of  blood-red  battlefields  and  glorious 
victories ; my  hero  shone  neither  on  the  field  nor  in  the  cabinet ; he 
was  not  the  inventor  of  a new  philosophy,  but  the  obsequious  disciple 
of  an  old  one.  We  have  not  heard  that  he  was  eloquent,  nor  does 
it  appear  that  he  was  distinguished  as  a writer ; he  was  not  noble  nor 
was  he  wealthy  ; his  birth  was  probably  obscure,  and  his  life  was 
certainly  secluded,  and  yet,  strange  as  it  may  appear  after  the  lapse 
of  twelve  hundred  years,  his  memory  is  green  in  the  souls  of  his 
posterity,  as  the  grass  that  still  blooms  on  the  " lone  little  island  ” 
which  in  early  life  his  sainted  footsteps  trod.  "The  just  man,”  says 
the  Sacred  Scripture,  "shall  be  in  eternal  remembrance,”  and  so  it 
was  with  St.  Finbar.  His  was  the  heroism  of  justice,  of  virtue,  of 
wisdom ; his  battles  were  those  which  he  fought  against  the  world, 
the  flesh,  and  the  devil ; his  victories  were  those  which  he  gained 
over  that  triple  alliance  of  his  enemies ; his  philosophy  was  that  of 
Jesus  the  Son  of  God ; his  eloquence  was  the  simple  but  moving 
eloquence  of  the  Gospel,  by  which  he  exhoi’ted  to  virtue  and  deterred 
from  vice ; his  only  writing  was  that  by  which  he  unconsciously 
inscribed  his  name  on  the  memories  of  men ; Christianity  was  his 
most  excellent  patent  of  nobility  ; and  his  only  wealth  and  inheritance 
were  the  grace  of  the  Almighty  during  life,  and  after  death  that 
glory  which  he  now  enjoys,  and  which  was  entailed  on  him  from  his 
Eternal  Father,  who  has  said,  " They  who  instruct  others  unto  justice 
shall  shine  like  stars  for  all  eternity.”  We  all  desire  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  great  men  of  olden  times,  and  we  are  justified  in  pi’aising 
them  by  the  example  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures ; but,  to  us  citizens  of 
Cork,  and  much  more  to  us  members  of  this  Parish,  it  must  be 
particularly  interesting  to  know  something  of  the  life  of  the  great 


REV.  M.  B.  BUCKLEY. 


113 


pride,  to  cherish  this  inestimable  boon,  and  to  show  forth  in  our 
lives  that  we  are  worthy  disciples  in  the  school  of  faith  established 
here  by  our  holy  Patron.  And,  on  this  night,  when  the  most  adora- 
ble Body  and  Blood  of  our  Divine  Redeemer  are  exposed  for  the 
special  veneration  of  the  faithful,  I think  I cannot  do  better  than  ask 
you  to  cherish  in  your  hearts  an  ardent  love  for  that  most  holy 
sacrament  as  the  best  means  of  enlivening  your  faith  and  meriting 
the  patronage  and  inetreession  of  the  holy  St.  Finbar.  " What  is 
man,  O Lord  : that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that 
thou  shouldst  visit  him?”  What  have  we  done,  O Lord  ! that  Thou 
shouldst  descend  from  Thy  throne  of  glory  and  visit  the  poorest  of 
Thy  servants  ? Thou  art  here  in  the  midst  of  us,  as  Thou  wert  on  the 
night  of  the  Last  Supper  amongst  the  Apostles  — so  near  that  we 
may  behold  Thee — so  condescending  that  we  may  converse  with  Thee 
like  friends  — so  generous  that  we  may  ask  of  Thee  what  Ave  please, 
and  be  sure  to  obtain  it  — so  loving  and  tender  that  our  bosoms 
may  melt  in  the  contemplation  of  Thy  sweetness  — and  yet  so 
exalted,  so  glorious,  so  powerful,  that  we  may  exhaust  the  language 
of  pi’aise  and  adoratipn,  and  still  be  at  loss  for  epithets  worthy  of 
Thy  greatness.  There  is  the  great  Lord,  my  brethren,  looking  down 
on  us  to-night  — the  same  Avho,  on  the  last  day,  will  appear  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven  to  judge  us.  Oh  ! let  us  propitiate  Him  now  in 
the  day  of  His  mercy,  for  on  that  day  His  justice  alone  shall  pi’evail ; 
and  believe  me  there  is  no  safer  way  to  avert  the  terrors  of  Jehoso- 
phat  than  to  keep  the  lamp  of  faith  forever  brightly  burning  in  your 
bosoms  — not  that  cold  faith  by  which  we  merely  believe  in  God,  but 
that  faith  which  worketh  by  charity,  and  which  is  so  strongly  recom- 
mended by  Christ  and  His  Apostles.  Grant  us,  therefore,  O Lord, 
the  grace  to  believe  in  Thee,  to  hope  in  Thee,  to  love  Thee,  that  when 
that  last  hour  of  earthly  existence  shall  ha\re  passed  away,  we  may 
experience  in  our  souls  the  happy  transition  of  faith  into  vision,  and 
of  hope  into  possession,  charity  alone  remaining.  And  do  thou,  O 
holy  St.  Finbar,  intercede,  Ave  beseech  thee,  to  God  for  us,  that  as 
it  is  to  thy  Apostolate  our  city  is  indebted  for  the  blessings  of  Chris- 
tian faith,  we  may  so  shape  our  conduct,  and  direct  our  lives,  that 
following  faithfully  the  beacon  of  that  faith  enkindled  by  thee  before 
us,  we  may  reach  in  safety  the  heaven  of  eternal  bliss,  to  enjoy  with 
thee  the  blessed  society  of  God  and  his  angels,  forever,  and  forever. 
Amen. 


114 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Sermon  on  the  Profession  of  a Nun, 


“ Hearken,  O daughter,  and  see : and  incline  thine  ear  and  forget  thy  people  and  thy 
father’s  house,  and  the  king  shall  greatly  admire  thy  beauty,  for  he  is  the  Lord 
thy  God.”  — Ps.  xliv.  12. 


.EARLY  BELOVED  SISTER,  — On  this  day,  — certainly  the 


most  important  of  your  life,  — when,  after  the  most  mature 


deliberations,  you  have  consecrated  for  the  rest  of  your 


days  your  whole  being  to  the  service  of  God,  it  is  of  advan- 
tage to  you  that  you  should  hear  some  words,  under  the 
auspices  of  religion,  that  may  strengthen  you  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  the  work  you  have  so  nobly  begun.  Into  the  retreat  which 
you  have  chosen  for  your  future  years  you  will  carry  all  the  infirmity 
of  your  nature,  and  for  you,  as  well  as  for  us  in  the  world,  life  will 
be  ever  a warfare.  It  is  well,  then,  that  you  should  have  ever 
before  your  eyes  a model  which  may  show’  you  not  only  the  possi- 
bility of  proceeding  in  your  adopted  course,  but  which  may  also 
illustrate  the  ease  with  which  all  its  difficulties  can  be  surmounted. 
When  we  undertake  some  new  and  previously  unattempted  task,  we 
are  apt  to  lose  courage,  and  sometimes  to  despair  of  success ; but 
when  we  try  what  some  other  wayfarer  on  life’s  journey  has  ventured 
and  achieved,  we  are  stimulated  by  his  example,  and  go  on  bravely 
to  the  end.  Thus  I would  propose  to  you,  dear  sister,  the  life  and 
character  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary,  as  the  great  standard  which 
you  should  follow  ; for  she  is  the  brightest  model  of  innocence,  self- 
sacrifice,  and  religious  consecration  ever  presented  by  God  to  an 
admiring  world.  I do  not  wish  you  to  imagine  that  in  following  this 
standard  you  can  ever  attain  to  anything  like  the  purity  and  holiness 
of  Mary,  for  none  other,  save  her,  ever  wras  or  will  be  ''  full  of  grace.” 
But  by  imitating  her  virtues  you  can  arrive  at  a height  of  sanctity 


REV.  M.  B.  BUCKLEY.  121 

you  will  do  more  for  Him  here  than  you  would  do  abroad.  You 
have  come,  not  to  repose,  but  to  labor;  not  to  do  your  own  will, 
but  the  will  of  Him  who  has  this  day  made  you  especially  His  own. 
You  have  heard  His  voice  in  3rour  ear  and  in  your  heart,  inviting 
you  to  become  His  child,  and  you  have  not  hesitated  to  come.  You 
have  never  once  looked  back.  "Hearken,  O daughter,  and  see,  and 
forget  thy  people  and  thy  father’s  house,  and  the  King  shall  greatly 
desire  thy  beauty,  for  He  is  the  Lord  thy  God.”  Oh  ! the  glory  of 
our  religion,  that  every  day  presents  to  our  eyes  so  many  miracles 
of  grace,  fortifying  weak  mortals  with  the  strength  of  giants,  clothing 
tender  woman  in  a panoply  of  might,  so  that  her  worth  is  estimated 
by  more  than  all  the  treasures  of  earth.  "Who  shall  find  a valiant 
woman?  Far  and  from  the  uttermost  coasts  is  the  price  of  her.” 
Proceed,  then,  dear  sister,  in  your  hallowed  course  — follow  the 
blessed  light  of  heaven  that  illumes  your  pathway.  Mary  is  look- 
ing down  on  you  this  moment  from  the  heights  of  Heaven,  and  in 
you  she  is  well  pleased.  Could  you  but  behold  the  gentle  eyes  of 
that  tenderest  and  sweetest  of  mothers,  how  much  would  the  fervor 
of  your  devotions  be  intensified,  and  the  strength  of  your  resolu- 
tions increased  ! May  she  be  your  powerful  mediatrix  before  the 
eternal  Throne  ; that  acting  all  your  life  with  the  docility  and  inno- 
cence of  a child,  you  may  adorn  your  soul  with  those  beautifying 
graces  which  may  make  you  worthy  to  be  eternally  saved  by  your 
Eternal  Father,  the  King  who  shall  desire  thy  beauty,  thy  Lord 
and  thy  God. 


122 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Sermon  on  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary, 


“ Comfortress  of  the  afflicted,  pray  for  us.” 

||g|EARLY  BELOVED  BRETHREN,  — There  is  no  sorrow  like 
|g(|P  that  which  the  heart  endures  in  secret ; of  which  we  ourselves 
alone  are  conscious,  and  which  oppresses  us  with  gloom  and 
dejection,  while  the  world  thinks  us  light-hearted  and  gay. 
We  mix  amongst  our  friends,  and,  while  they  see  the  faint  smile  that 
lights  our  cheek  at  the  passing  jest,  they  little  dream  of  the  misery,  the 
untold  agony,  that  wrings  our  bosoms,  and  brings  us  well  nigh  to 
the  confines  of  despair.  Oh  ! at  such  a moment  how  we  long  to  find 
some  sympathizing  friend  — some  tender-hearted  bosom  to  which  we 
may  freely  disclose  the  sad  story  of  our  wrongs  — the  bitter  catalogue 
of  our  afflictions.  And  when,  at  length,  the  melancholy  tale  is  told, 
and  the  patient  listener  turns  to  console  us,  how  sweetly  the  words 
of  solace  fall  upon  our  ear ; how  the  heart  expands  with  love,  with 
gratitude,  with  courage,  and  the  tears,  which,  but  a few  moments 
before,  were  the  silent  interpreters  of  unutterable  woe,  are  suddenly 
converted,  by  the  magic  touch  of  sympathy,  into  the  exponents  of 
equally  unalterable  joy.  But  where  shall  we  find  this  sweet  consoler, 
this  gentle  confidant,  this  tender  heart,  before  which  we  may  bare 
our  own,  and  to  which  we  may  impart  the  last  secret  of  our  sorrows? 
Alas  ! for  the  perversity  of  human  nature,  such  friendship  is  rare, 
very  rare,  in  this  cold,  heartless  world.  Self-love  predominates 
over  every  generous  impulse  of  nature,  and  it  has  almost  passed 
into  a proverb,  that  hearts  which  have  confided  most  have  been 
most  frequently  betrayed.  But  there  is  at  least  one  human  being 
to  whom  we  are  invited  to  recur  in  all  our  tribulations,  into  whose 
sacred  bosom  no  profane  thought  of  self-love  ever  presumed  to 


EEY.  M.  B.  BUCKLEY.  131 


Lecture  on  the  National  Music  of  Ireland* 


Ireland,  from  time  immemorial,  music  and  poetry  have  been  so 
much  cultivated  conjointly  by  the  same  class  of  men,  and  not, 
pfj  as  in  other  countries,  each  by  a different  order  of  votaries,  that, 

Jr  as  far  as  Ireland  is  concerned,  the  history  of  the  one  cannot 
well  be  dissociated  from  the  history  of  the  other.  The  bards  of  the 
most  ancient  times,  and  indeed  the  bards  of  times  comparatively 
modern,  not  only  reached  the  highest  excellence  in  the  performance 
of  instrumental  music,  but  their  own  genius  supplied  them  with 
words  and  ideas,  and  facility  of  musical  composition,  requisite  for 
attaining  thorough  perfection  in  the  cultivation  of  the  sister  art.  It 
is,  therefore,  impossible  for  him  who  professes  to  trace  the  history 
of  Irish  music  not  to  interweave  with  his  theme  the  history  of  Irish 
poetry  also.  In  the  performance  of  this  task,  the  historian  or  lec- 
turer must  expose  himself  to  the  ridicule  of  the  unlearned  sceptic, 
and  to  the  incredulity  of  many  of  his  own  un-Irish  fellow-country- 
men when  he  claims  for  the  poetry  and  music  of  his  native  land  an 
antiquity  scarcely  attained  by  those  arts  in  any  region  of  the  universal 
world.  But  scepticism  and  unpatriotism  must  yield  to  the  adaman- 
tine sternness  of  truth ; and  it  is  truth  to  say  that  the  history  of 
Irish  poetry  and  music  can  be  traced  back  to  the  earliest  dawnings  of 
the  history  of  mankind.  Music  is  as  old  as  the  world,  and  the  world 
was  yet  young  when  Ireland  was  colonized  by  wanderers  from 
Oriental  climes,  where  poetry  and  music  appear  to  have  been  coeval 
with  the  very  formation  of  society.  Music  is  inherent  in  the  very 
nature  of  man  — it  is  the  language  specially  adapted  for  express- 
ing the  joyous  affections  of  an  innocent  mind.  As  the  whispering 
of  forest  leaves,  the  rippling  of  the  mountain  stream,  and  the  roar 

* Delivered  before  the  Cork  Literary  and  Scientific  Society,  December  12,  1868. 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


132 

of  the  angry  storm,  arc  the  homage-giving  music  of  inanimate  crea- 
tion, so  vocal  melody  is  the  prescribed  music  in  which  nature  dictates 
to  man  to  sound  the  praises  of  his  God.  No  tribe  or  nation  has  been 
ever  known  that  was  not  susceptible  of  the  influence  of  music ; and 
the  more  primitive  the  state  of  man,  the  more  prevalent  appears  to 
have  been  its  cultivation.  Hence  the  idea  of  pastoral  life  is  always 
associated  with  the  idea  of  musical  tastes.  According  to  the  fourth 
chapter  of  Genesis,  Jubal,  the  seventh  descendant  of  Adam,  with 
whom  he  was  contemporary,  was  " the  father  of  them  that  play  upon 
the  harp  and  the  organs,”  that  is,  of  all  stringed  and  wind  or  pulsa- 
tile instruments ; and,  appropriately  enough,  we  tind  in  the  same 
passage  that  he  was  the  brother  of  Jabel,  who  was  the  father  of 
such  as  dwell  in  tents  and  of  herdsmen.”  Thus  we  find,  at  one  of 
the  earliest  periods  of  human  history,  that  the  nomad  life  was  asso- 
ciated in  one  family  with  the  cultivation  of  the  art  of  music  a 
circumstance  which  is  illustrated  in  heathen  mythology  by  the  pipes 
of  the  sylvan  Pan  and  the  lyre  of  the  pastoral  Apollo.  Jubal  was 
also  a contemporary  of  Noah,  and  doubtless  transmitted  through 
the  saved  of  the  ark  the  secrets  of  his  art  to  his  postdiluvian  descend- 
ants. The  branches  of  the  human  family  were  soon  after  separated 
from  the  parent  stock,  and  migrating  from  the  plain  of  Senaar, 
brought  with  them  their  customs  and  traditions  to  every  quarter  of 
the  globe  on  which  they  settled.  All  truthful  history  assures  us 
that  the  earliest  colonists  of  Ireland  came  from  the  East  that  land 
where  the  genial  warmth  of  the  climate,  the  surpassing  beauty  of 
Nature,  and  the  vivacious  temperament  of  the  people,  togethci  with 
that  simplicity  and  impressibility  characteristic  of  the  infancy  of 
society,  made  almost  every  man  a poet.  Fi’om  that  pure  and  gene- 
rous source  the  poetry  and  music  of  Ireland  have  flown,  and,  aftei 
the  lapse  of  ages,  to  this  day  close  affinity  may  be  discerned  between 
the  strains  of  several  Oriental  nations  and  the  strains  of  our  native 
land.  These  similarities  have  been  discovered  in  Persia  and  India. 
Marsden,  in  his  history  of  Sumatra,  says  that  "the  Sumatran  tunes 
much  resemble  to  his  ear  those  of  the  native  Irish,  having  usually, 
like  them,  a flat  third.”  Modern  travellers,  or  residents  in  India, 
will  tell  you  that  there  is  a marvellous  resemblance  between  the 
Hindoo  melodies  and  those  of  Ireland  and  Scotland.  The  same  may 
be  said  of  the  melodies  of  the  Siamese.  From  these  Eastern  sources 


, '!$ 


1R 


First  Lecture. 

Dm  /vered  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York,  Novembeb 

12,  1872. 


■ IDLES  AND  GENTLEMEN,  — It  is  a strange  fact  that  the 
old  battle,  which  has  been  raging  for  seven  hundred  years, 
^ should  continue  so  far  away  from  the  old  land.  The  question 

{ on  which  I am  come  to  speak  to  you  this  evening  is  one  that 

has  been  disputed  at  many  a council  board,  one  that  has  been  disputed 
in  many  a parliament,  one  that  has  been  disputed  on  many  a well- 
fought  field,  and  is  not  yet  decided  — the  question  between  England 
and  Ireland.  Amongst  the  visitors  to  America  who  came  over  this 
year  there  was  one  gentleman  distinguished  in  Europe  for  his  style 
of  writing  and  for  his  historical  knowledge,  the  author  of  several 
works  which  have  created  a profound  sensation,  at  least  for  their 
originality.  Mr.  Froude  has  frankly  stated  that  he  came  over  to  this 
country  to  deal  with  the  English  and  with  the  Irish  question,  viewing 
it  from  the  English  standpoint ; that,  like  a true  man,  he  came  to 
America  to  make  the  best  case  that  he  could  for  his  own  country ; 
that  he  came  to  state  that  case  to  an  American  public  as  to  a grand 
jury,  and  to  demand  a verdict  from  them  the  most  extraordinary  that 
was  ever  yet  demanded  from  any  people — namely,  the  declaration 
that  England  was  right  in  the  manner  in  which  she  has  treated  my 
native  land  for  seven  hundred  years.  It  seems,  according  to  this 
learned  gentleman,  that  we  Irish  have  been  badly  treated  ; that  he 
confesses,  but  he  put  in  as  a plea  that  we  only  got  what  we  deserved. 
It  is  true,  he  says,  that  we  have  governed  them  badly;  the  reason  is, 
because  it  was  impossible  to  govern  them  rightly.  It  is  true  that  we 
have  robbed  them  ; the  reason  is,  because  it  was  a pity  to  leave  them 

( 203  ) 


204 


.TREASURY  OE  ELOQUENCE. 


their  own , they  made  such  a had  use  of  it.  It  is  true  we  have  perse- 
cuted them  ; the  reason  is,  persecution  was  a fashion  of  the  time  and 
the  order  of  the  day.  On  those  pleas  there  is  not  a criminal  in  prison 
to-day  in  the  United  States  that  should  not  instantly  get  his  freedom 
by  acknowledging  his  crime  and  pleading  some  extenuating  circum- 
stance. Our  ideas  about  Ireland  have  been  all  wrong,  it  seems. 
Seven  hundred  years  ago  the  exigencies  of  the  time  demanded  the 
foundation  of  a strong  British  empire ; in  order  to  do  this,  Ireland 
had  to  be  conquered,  and  Ireland  was  conquered.  Since  that  tin  e 
the  one  ruling  idea  in  the  English  mind  has  been  to  do  all  the  gool 
that  they  could  for  the  Irish.  Their  legislation  and  their  action  has 
not  always  been  tender,  but  it  has  been  always  beneficent.  They 
sometimes  were  severe;  but  they  were  severe  to  us  for  our  own 
good,  and  the  difficulty  of  England  has  been  the  Irish  during  these 
long  hundreds  of  years  ; they  never  understood  their  own  interests  or 
knew  what  was  for  their  own  good.  Now,  the  Ameiiean  mind  i> 
enlightened,  and  henceforth  no  Irishman  must  eomplain  of  the  past 
in  this  new  light  in  which  Mr.  Froude  puts  it  before  us.  ^°w,  the 
amiable  gentlemen  tells  us,  what  has  been  our  fate  in  the  past  ho 
greatly  fears  we  must  reconcile  ourselves  to  in  the  future.  He  comes 
to  tell  us  his  version  of  the  history  of  Ireland,  and  also  to  solve  Ire- 
land's difficulty,  and  to  lead  us  out  of  all  the  miseries  that  have  been 
our  lot  for  hundreds  of  years.  W hen  he  came,  many  persons  ques- 
tioned what  was  the  motive  or  the  reason  of  his  coming.  I have 
heard  people  speaking  all  round  me,  and  assigning  to  the  learned 
gentleman  this  motive  or  that.  Some  people  said  he  was  an  emis- 
sary of  the  English  government,  that  they  sent  him  here  because  they 
were  beginning  to  be  afraid  of  the  rising  power  of  Ireland  in  this 
great  nation  ; that  they  saw  here  eight  millions  of  Irishmen  by  birth, 
and  perhaps  fourteen  millions  by  descent ; and  that  they  knew 
enough  of  the  Irish  to  realize  that  the  Almighty  God  blessed  them 
always  with  an  extraordinary  power,  not  only  to  preserve  them- 
selves, but  to  spread  themselves,  until  in  a few  years  not  fourteen, 
but  fifty  millions  of  descendants  of  Irish  blood  and  of  Irish  race  will 
be  in  this  land.  According  to  those  who  thus  surmise,  England 
wants  to  check  the  sympathy  of  the  American  people  for  their  Irish 
fellow-citizens  ; and  it  was  considered  that  the  best  w ay  to  effect  this 
was  to  send  a learned  man  with  a plausible  story  to  this  country,  a 


FATHER  BURKE. 


205 

man  with  a singular  power  of  viewing  facts  in  the  light  which  he 
wishes  himself  to  view  them  and  put  them  before  others,  a man  with 
the  extraordinary  power  of  so  mixing  up  these  facts  that  many 
simple-minded  people  will  look  upon  them  as  he  puts  them  before 
them  as  true,  and  whose  mission  it  was  to  alienate  the  mind  of 
America  from  Ireland  to-day  by  showing  what  an  impracticable, 
obstinate,  accursed  race  we  are. 

Others,  again,  surmise  that  the  learned  gentleman  came  for  another 
purpose.  They  said,  England  is  in  the  hour  of  her  weakness  ; she  is 
tottering  fast  and  visibly  to  her  ruin ; the  disruption  of  that  old 
empire  is  visibly  approaching ; she  is  to-day  cast  off  without  an  ally 
in  Europe,  her  army  a cipher,  her  fleet  nothing  — according  to  Mr. 
Reade,  a great  authority  on  this  question  — nothing  to  be  compared 
to  the  rival  fleet  of  the  great  Russian  power  now  growing  up.  "When 
France  was  paralyzed  by  her  late  defeat,  England  lost  her  best  ally. 
The  three  emperors,  in  their  meeting  the  other  day,  contemptuousl}' 
ignored  her,  and  they  settled  the  affairs  of  the  world  without  as  much 
as  mentioning  the  name  of  that  kingdom,  which  was  once  so  power- 
ful. Her  resources  of  coal  and  iron  are  failing,  her  people  are  dis- 
contented, and  she  is  showing  every  sign  of  decay.  Thus  did  some 
people  argue  that  England  was  anxious  for  an  American  alliance ; 
for,  they  said,  " What  would  be  more  natural  than  that  the  old  tot- 
tering empire  should  seek  to  lean  on  the  strong,  mighty,  vigorous 
vouno;  arm  of  America  ? ” 

I have  heard  others  say  that  the  gentleman  came  over  to  this 
country  on  the  invitation  of  a little  clique  of  sectarian  bigots  in  this 
country.  Men  who,  feeling  that  the  night  of  religious  bigotry  and 
sectarian  bitterness  is  fast  coming  to  a close  before  the  increasing 
light  of  American  intelligence  and  education,  would  fain  prolong  the 
darkness  for  an  hour  or  two  by  whatever  help  Mr.  Froude  could 
lend  them. 

But  I protest  to  you,  gentlemen,  here  to-night  that  I have  heard  all 
these  motives  assigned  to  this  learned  man  without  giving  them  the 
least  attention.  I believe  Mr.  Froude’s  motives  to  be  simple, 
straightforward,  honorable  and  patriotic.  I am  willing  to  give  him 
credit  for  the  highest  motives,  and  I consider  him  perfectly  incapable 
of  lending  himself  to  any  base  or  sordid  proceedings  from  a base  or 
sordid  motive.  But  as  the  learned  gentleman’s  motives  have  been  so 


206  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

freely  canvassed  and  criticised,  and,  I believe,  indeed,  in  many  cases 
misinterpreted,  so  my  own  motives  in  coming  here  to-night  may  be 
perhaps  also  misinterpreted  and  misunderstood,  unless  I state  them 
clearly  and  plainly.  As  he  is  said  to  come  as  an  emissary  of  the 
English  Government,  so  I may  be  said,  perhaps,  to  appear  as  an 
emissary  of  rebellion  or  of  revolution.  As  he  is  supposed  by  some  to 
have  the  sinister  motive  of  alienating  the  American  mind  from  the 
Irish  citizenship  of  the  States,  so  I maybe  suspected  of  endeavoring 
to  excite  religious  or  political  hatred. 

Now,  I protest  these  are  not  my  motives  ; I come  here  to-night 
simply  to  vindicate  the  honor  of  Ireland  in  her  history.  I come  here 
to-night  lest  any  man  should  think  that  in  this  our  day,  or  in  any 
day,  Ireland  is  to  be  left  without  a son,  who  will  speak  for  the  mother 
that  bore  him. 

And  first  of  all  I hold  that  Mr.  Froude  is  unfit  for  the  task  he  has 
undertaken  for  three  great  reasons  : First,  because  I find  in  the  writings 
of  this  learned  gentleman  that  he  solemnly  and  emphatically  declares 
that  he  despairs  of  ever  finding  a remedy  for  Ireland,  and  he  gives  it 
up  as  a bad  job.  Here  are  the  words,  written  in  one  of  his  essays 
a few  years  ago  : " The  present  hope,”  he  says,  "is  that  by  assiduous 
justice  ” (that  is  to  say,  by  conceding  everything  that  the  Irish  please 
to  ask)  "we  shall  disarm  that  enmity,  and  convince  them  of  our 
good  will.”  It  may  be  so  ; there  are  persons  sanguine  enough  to 
hope  that  the  Irish  will  be  so  moderate  in  what  they  demand,  and 
the  English  so  liberal  in  what  they  grant,  that  at  last  we  shall  fling 
ourselves  into  each  other's  arms  ia  tears  of  mutual  forgiveness.  Ido 
not  share  that  expectation : it  is  more  likely  they  will  push  their 
importunities  until  at  last  we  turn  upon  them  and  refuse  to  yield 
further.  And  there  will  be  a struggle  once  more  ; and  cither  emi- 
gration to  America  will  increase  in  volume  until  it  has  carried  the 
entire  race  beyond  our  reach,  or  in  some  shape  or  other  they  will 
again  have  to  be  coerced  into  submission.  "Banish  them  or  coerce 
them  ” : there  is  the  true  English  speech.  " My  only  remedy,”  he 
emphatically  says,  " my  only  hope,  my  only  prospect  for  the  future 
for  Ireland  is,  let  them  all  go  to  America ; have  done  with  the  race  ; 
give  to  them  a land  at  least  that  we  have  endeavored  to  make  for 
seven  hundred,  years  a desert  and  a solitude  ; or,  if  they  remain  at 
home,  they  wdl  have  to  be  coerced  into  submission.”  I hold  that 


FATHER  BURKE. 


231 


Second  Lecture, 

Delivered  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York,  November 

14,  1872. 


■ADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN, — We  come  now  to  consider 
the  second  lecture  of  the  eminent  English  historian  who  has 
^ come  among  us.  It  covers  one  of  the  most  interesting  and 

■l  terrible  passages  in  our  history,  and  takes  in  three  reigns  — 

the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  and  the  reign  of 
James  I.  I scarcely  consider  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  or  of  Philip 
and  Mary,  worth  counting.  Mr.  Froude  began  his  second  lecture 
with  a rather  startling  paradox.  He  asserted  that  Henry  VIII.  was 
a hater  of  disorder.  Now,  my  friends,  every  man  in  this  world  has 
his  hero  ; and,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  every  man  selects  some 
character  out  of  history  that  he  admires,  until  at  length,  by  contin- 
ually dwelling  on  the  virtues  and  excellences  of  his  hero,  he  comes 
to  almost  worship  him.  From  among  the  grand  historic  names 
written  in  the  world’s  annals  every  man  is  free  to  select  whom  he 
likes  best,  and  using  this  privilege,  Mr.  Froude  has  made  the  most 
singular  selection  of  which  you  or  I ever  heard.  His  hero  is  Henry 
VIII.  It  speaks  volumes  for  the  integrity  of  Mr.  Froude’s  own 
mind.  It  is  a strong  argument  that  he  possesses  a charity  most  sub- 
lime that  he  is  enabled  to  discover  virtues  in  the  historical  character 
of  one  of  the  greatest  monsters  that  ever  cursed  the  earth.  But  he 
has  succeeded  in  this,  to  us,  apparent  impossibility,  and  discovered, 
among  other  shining  virtues,  in  the  character  of  the  English  Nero  a 
great  love  for  order  and  hatred  of  disorder.  Well,  we  must  stop  at 
the  very  first  sentence  of  the  learned  gentlemen  and  enquire  how 
much  truth  there  is  in  it,  and  how  much  only  a figment  of  imagina- 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


232 

tion.  All  order  in  the  state  is  based  on  three  grand  principles,  my 
friends : first,  the  supremacy  of  the  law  ; second,  respect  fur  liberty 
of  conscience  ; and,  third,  a tender  regard  for  that  which  lies  at  the 
foundation  of  all  human  society  — namely , the  sanctity  of  the  mar- 
riage tie. 

The  first  element  of  order  in  every  state  is  the  supremacy  of  the 
law,  for  in  this  lies  the  very  quintessence  of  human  freedom  and  of 
order.  The  law  is  supposed  to  be,  according  to  the  definition  of 
Aquinas,  "the  judgment  pronounced  by  profound  reason  and  intel- 
lect, thinking  and  legislating  for  the  public  good.”  The  law  is 
therefore  the  expression  of  reason  — reason  backed  by  authority, 
reason  influenced  by  the  noble  motive  of  the  public  good.  This 
being  the  nature  of  law,  the  very  first  thing  that  is  demanded  for  the 
law  is  that  every  man  shall  bow  down  to  it  and  obey  it.  ^No  man  in 
any  community  has  any  right  to  claim  exemption  from  obedience  to 
the  law,  least  of  all  the  man  at  the  head  of  the  community,  because 
he  is  supposed  to  represent  the  nation  and  nation  s spiiit,  and  to  give 
to  the  people  an  example  ol  virtue  and  of  obedience  to  the  lav . 
Was  Henry  VIII.  an  upholder  of  the  law  ? was  he  obedient  to  Eng- 
land's law?  I deny  it,  and  I have  the  evidence  of  history  to  back 
me  in  that  denial,  and  to  prove  that  Henry  VIII.  was  one  of  the 
greatest  enemies  of  freedom  and  law  that  ever  lived  in  this  voile, 
and  consequently  one  of  the  greatest  tyrants.  I shall  only  give  one 
example  out  of  ten  thousand  which  might  be  taken  from  the  history 
of  the  time.  When  Henry  VIII.  broke  with  the  Pope,  he  called 
upon  his  subjects  to  acknowledge  him  (bless  the  mark !)  as  the 
spiritual  head  of  the  Church.  There  were  three  abbots  of  three 
Charter-houses  in  London  — the  Abbot  of  London,  the  Abbot  of 
Asciolum,  and  the  Abbot  Belaval.  These  three  abbots  refused  to 
acknowledge  Henry  as  the  supreme  spiritual  head  of  the  Church. 
They  were  arrested  and  held  for  trial,  and  a jury  of  twelve  citizens 
was  impanelled  to  try  them.  The  first  principle  of  English  law, 
the  grand  palladium  of  English  legislation  and  freedom,  is  the  perfect 
liberty  of  a jury.  A jury  must  be  free,  not  only  from  coercion,  but 
from  prejudice  and  prejudgment.  A jury  must  be  impartial,  and 
free  to  record  the  verdict  at  which  their  impartial  judgment  has 
arrived.  Those  twelve  men  refused  to  convict  the  three  abbots  of 
hi«h  treason.  Their  decision  was  grounded  on  this,  it  has  never 


FATHER  BURKE.  251 


Third  Lecture, 

Delivered  in  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York,  November 

19,  1872. 


RADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN,  — I now  approach,  in  answering 
[Aw  Mr.  Froude,  some  of  the  most  awful  periods  of  our  history, 
and  I confess  that  1 approach  this  terrible  ground  with  hesi- 
i tancy,  and  with  an  extreme  regret  that  Mr.  Froude  should 
have  opened  up  questions  which  oblige  an  Irishman  to  undergo  the 
pain  of  heart  and  anguish  of  spirit  which  a revision  of  those  periods 
of  our  history  must  occasion.  The  learned  gentleman  began  his 
third  lecture  by  reminding  his  audience  that  he  had  closed  his  second 
lecture  with  a reference  to  the  rise,  progress,  and  collapse  of  a great 
rebellion  which  took  place  in  Ireland  in  1641  — that  is  to  say,  some- 
what more  than  two  hundred  years  ago.  He  made  but  a passing 
allusion  to  that  great  event  in  our  history,  and  in  that  allusion  — if 
he  has  been  reported  correctly  — he  said  simply  that  the  Irish 
rebelled  in  1641.  This  was  his  first  statement,  that  it  was  a rebel- 
lion ; secondly,  that  this  rebellion  began  in  massacre  and  ended  in 
, ruin  ; thirdly,  that  for  nine  years  the  Irish  leaders  had  the  destinies 
of  their  country  in  their  hands  ; and,  fourthly,  that  those  nine  years 
were  years  of  anarchy  and  mutual  slaughter.  Nothing,  therefore, 
can  be  imagined  more  melancholy  than  the  picture  drawn  by  that 
learned  gentleman  of  these  nine  sad  years.  And  yet  I will  venture 
to  say,  and  I hope  I shall  be  able  to  prove,  that  each  of  these  four 
statements  is  without  sufficient  historical  foundation.  My  first  posi- 
tion is  that  the  movement  of  1641  was  not  a rebellion  ; second,  that 
it  did  not  begin  with  massacre,  although  it  ended  in  ruin ; thirdly, 
that  the  Irish  leaders  had  not  the  destiny  of  their  country  in  their 


252  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE 

hands  during  these  years;  and,  fourth,  whether  they  had  or  not, 
that  these  years  were  not  a period  of  anarchy  and  mutual  slaughter. 
They  were  but  the  opening  to  a far  more  terrific  period.  We  must 
discuss  these  questions,  my  friends,  calmly  and  historically.  "\\  e 
must  look  upon  them  rather  like  the  antiquarian  prying  into  the 
past  than  with  the  living,  warm  feelings  of  men  whose  blood  boils  up 
with  the  burnings  of  so  much  injustice  and  so  much  bloodshed. 

In  order  to  understand  this  question  fully  and  fairly,  it  is  neces- 
sary for  us  to  go  back  to  the  historical  events  of  the  time.  I find, 
then,  that  James  I.,  the  man  who  planted  Ulster  — that  is  to  say, 
confiscated  utterly  and  entirely  six  of  the  finest  counties  in  Ireland, 
an  entire  province,  rooting  out  the  aboriginal  Irish  and  Catholic 
inhabitants,  even  to  a man,  giving  the  whole  country  to  Scotch  and 
English  settlers  of  the  Protestant  religion,  under  the  condition  that 
they  were  not  to  employ  even  as  much  as  an  Irish  laborer  on  their 
grounds,  that  they  were  to  banish  them  all  — this  man  died  in  102.3 
and  was  succeeded  by  his  unfortunate  son,  Charles  I.  V\  hen  Charles 
came  to  the  throne,  bred  up  as  he  was  in  the  traditions  of  a monarchy 
which  Henry  VIII.  had  rendered  almost  absolute,  as  we  know  — 
whose  absolute  power  was  still  continued  in  Elizabeth  under  forms 
the  most  tyrannical,  whose  absolute  power  was  continued  by  his  own 
father,  James  I.  — Charles  came  to  the  throne  with  the  most  exag- 
gerated ideas  of  royal  privileges  and  supremacy.  But  during  the 
days  of  his  father  a new  spirit  had  grown  up  in  Scotland  and  in 
England.  The  form  which  Protestantism  took  in  Scotland  was  the 
hard,  uncompromising,  and  highly  cruel  form  of  Calvinism  in  its 
most  repellant  aspect.  The  men  who  rose  in  Scotland  in  defence  of 
their  Presbyterian  l’eligion  rose  not  against  Catholic  people,  but 
against  the  Episcopalian  Protestants  of  England.  They  defended 
what  they  called  the  kirk  or  covenant.  They  fought  bravely,  I 
acknowdedge,  for  it,  and  they  ended  in  establishing  it  as  the  religion 
of  Scotland. 

Now,  Charles  I.  was  an  Episcopalian  Protestant  of  the  most  sincere 
and  devoted  kind.  The  Parliament  of  England,  in  the  very  first 
years  of  Charles,  admitted  persons  who  were  strongly  tinged  with 
Scottish  Calvinism.  The  king  demanded  of  them  certain  subsidies 
and  they  refused  him  ; he  asserted  certain  sovereign  rights  and  they 
denied  them.  While  this  was  going  on  in  England  from  1630  to 


FATHER  BURKE.  269 


Fourth  Lecture, 


ADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN,  — I have  perceived  iu  the  public 
newspapers  that  Mr.  Froude  seems  to  be  somewhat  irritated 
IjK3  by  the  remarks  made  as  to  his  accuracy  as  a historian.  Lest 

1 any  word  of  mine  might  hurt  in  the  least  degree  the  just  sus- 

ceptibilities of  an  honorable  man,  I beg  beforehand  to  say  that 
nothing  is  further  from  my  thoughts  than  the  slightest  word  either 
of  personality  or  disrespect  for  one  who  has  won  for  himself  so  high 
a name  as  the  English  historian.  Therefore  I merely  hope  that  it  is 
not  any  word  which  may  have  fallen  from  me,  even  in  the  heat  of 
our  amicable  controversy,  that  has  given  the  least  offence  to  that 
gentleman.  Just  as  I would  expect  to  receive  from  him,  or  from 
any  other  learned  and  educated  man,  the  treatment  which  one  gentle- 
man is  supposed  to  show  to  another,  so  do  I also  wish  to  give  him 
that  treatment. 

Now,  my  friends,  we  come  to  the  matter  in  hand.  The  last  thing 
I did  was  to  traverse  a great  portion  of  our  previous  history  in 
reviewing  the  statements  of  the  English  historian,  and  one  portion  I 
was  obliged  to  leave  almost  untouched.  One  portion  of  that  sad 
history  is  included  iu  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  that  estimable  lady 
of  whom  history  records  the  unwomanly  vice  of  an  overfondness  for 
eating.  Anne  ascended  the  English  throne  in  1702,  after  the 
demise  of  William  of  Orange,  and  she  sat  upon  that  throne  until 
1711.  As  I before  remarked,  there  was,  perhaps,  sufficient  reason 
that  the  Roman  Catholics  of  Ireland,  trodden  as  they  were  in  the 
very  dust,  should  expect  some  quarter  from  the  daughter  of  the  man 
for  whom  they  had  shed  their  blood,  and  the  granddaughter  of  the 
other  Stuart  king  for  whose  cause  they  had  fought  Avith  so  much 
bravery  in  1649.  But  the  Irish  Catholics  got  from  this  good  Lady 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


270 

Anne  a return  quite  of  another  kind  from  what  they  might  with 
reason  have  expected.  Not  content  with  the  breach  of  the  articles 
of  Limerick  of  which  her  royal  brother-in-law,  William,  had  been 
guilty  — not  content  with  the  atrocious  penal  laws  which  kept  the 
Catholics  of  Ireland  in  grovelling  misery,  Anne  went  further.  She 
appointed  a new  Lord  Lieutenant,  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  and  no 
sooner  did  he  assume  his  powers  than  the  Irish  Protestants  fell  on 
their  knees  before  him  and  begged  him  to  save  them  from  their  foes, 
the  desperate  Catholics.  Great  God!  A people  who  had  been 
robbed,  persecuted,  decimated,  until  there  was  hardly  a miserable 
remnant  left,  without  a vote  in  the  election  of  the  humblest  board, 
without  a voice  in  the  transaction  of  the  humblest  business,  without 
power,  influence,  or  recognized  existence  — and  of  this  people  the 
strong  Protestant  body  in  Ireland  complained  as  being  dangerous. 
And  so  well  were  these  complaints  heard,  my  friends,  that  we  find 
edict  after  edict  coming  out,  declaring  that  no  Papist  shall  be  allowed 
to  inherit  land  or  possess  land,  or  even  have  it  under  a lease  ; declar- 
ing that  if  a Catholic  child  wished  to  become  a Protestant,  that 
moment  that  child  became  the  owner  and  the  master  of  his  father’s 
estate,  and  his  father  remained  only  a pensioner  or  tenant  for  life 
upon  the  bounty  of  his  own  apostate  son;  declaring  that  if  a child, 
however  young,  even  an  infant,  became  a Protestant,  that  moment 
that  child  was  to  be  removed  from  the  guardianship  and  custody  of 
the  father,  and  was  to  be  handed  over  to  some  Protestant  relation. 
Every  enactment  that  the  misguided  ingenuity  of  the  tyrannical 
mind  of  man  could  suggest  was  put  in  force.  " One  might  be 
inclined,”  says  Mr.  Mitchell,  "to  suppose  that  Popery  had  already 
been  sufficiently  discouraged,  seeing  that  the  clergy  had  been  ban- 
ished, the  Catholics  were  excluded  by  law  from  all  honorable  and 
lucrative  employments,  carefully  disarmed  and  plundered  of  almost 
every  acre  of  their  ancient  inheritance.  But  enough  was  not  already 
done  to  make  the  Protestant  interest  feel  secure.  Consequently 
laws  were  sanctioned  by  Her  Majesty  Queen  Anne  that  no  Catholic 
could  go  near  a walled  town,  especially  Limerick  or  Galway.  In 
order  that  they  might  be  sure  not  to  go  near  a walled  town,  they 
were  to  remain  several  miles  away,  as  if  they  were  lepers  whose 
presence  would  contaminate  their  select  and  pampered  Protestant 
fellow-citizens.” 


FATHER  BURKE. 


287 


Fifth  Lecture, 


SADIES  AND  GENTLEMEN,  — On  this  day  a paragraph  in  a 
a newspaper,  the  "New  York  Tribune,”  was  brought  under  my 
fv'  notice,  and  the  reading  of  it  caused  me  much  pain  and  anguish 

l of  mind.  It  recorded  an  act  of  discourtesy  to  my  learned 

antagonist,  Mr.  Froude,  supposed  to  have  been  offered  by  Irishmen 
in  Boston.  In  the  name  of  the  Irishmen  in  America  I tender  to  the 
learned  gentlemen  my  best  apologies.  I beg  to  assui’e  him  for  my 
Irish  fellow-countrymen  in  this  country  that  we  are  only  too  happy 
to  offer  to  him  the  courtesy  and  hospitality  which  Ireland  has  never 
refused,  even  to  her  enemies.  Mr.  Froude  does  not  come  amongst 
us  as  an  enemy  of  Ireland,  but  he  professes  that  he  loves  the  Irish 
people,  and  I believe  him.  When  I read  in  the  report  of  his  last 
lecture,  which  I am  about  to  answer  to-night,  that  he  would  yield  to 
no  man  in  his  love  for  the  Irish  people,  I was  reminded  of  what 
O’Connell  said  to  Lord  Derby  on  a similar  occasion.  When  the 
noble  lord  stated  in  the  House  of  Lords  that  he  would  yield  to  no 
man  in  his  great  love  for  Ireland,  the  " Tribune  ” arose  and  said : 
" Any  man  that  loves  Ireland  cannot  be  my  enemy ; let  our  hearts 
shake  hands.”  I am  sure,  therefore,  that  I speak  the  sentiments  of 
every  true  Irishman  in  America  when  I assure  this  learned  English 
gentleman  that  as  long  as  he  is  in  this  country  he  will  receive  from 
the  hands  of  the  Irish  citizens  of  America  nothing  but  the  same  cour- 
tesy, the  same  polite  hospitality  and  attention  which  he  boasts  he  has 
received  from  the  Irish  people  in  their  native  land.  W e Irishmen 
in  America  know  well  that  it  is  not  by  discourtesy,  or  anything  ap- 
proaching to  rudeness  or  violence,  that  we  expect  to  make  our  ap- 
peal to  this  great  nation.  If  ever  the  reign  of  intellect  and  of  mind 
was  practically  established  in  this  world,  it  is  in  glorious  America. 


2g8  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

Every  man  who  seeks  the  truth,  every  man  who  preaches  the  truth, 
whether  it  be  a religious  or  a historical  truth,  will  find  an  audience 
in  America;  and  I hope  that  he  never  will  find  an  Irishman  to  stand 
up  and  offer  him  discourtesy  or  violence  because  he  speaks  what 
he  imagines  to  be  the  truth. 

So  much  being  said  in  reference  to  the  paragraph  to  which  I have 
alluded,  I come  to  the  last  of  Mr.  Froude’s  lectures  and  to  the  last 
of  my  own.  First,  the  learned  gentleman,  in  his  fourth  lecture, 
told  the  people  of  America  his  views  of  the  rebellion  of  1782  and 
the  subsequent  Irish  rebellion  of  ’98.  According  to  Mr.  Froude, 
the  Irish  made  a great  mistake  in  1782  by  asserting  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  Irish  Parliament.  "They  abandoned,”  says  this 
learned  gentleman,  "the  paths  of  political  reform,  and  they  clamored 
for  political  agitation.”  Now,  political  agitation  is  one  thing  and 
political  reform  is  another.  Political  reform,  my  friends,  means  the 
correction  of  great  abuses,  the  repealing  of  bad  laws,  and  the  pass- 
ing of  good  measures  for  the  welfare  and  well-being  of  a people. 
According  to  this  learned  gentlemen,  the  English  were  taught  bv 
their  bitter  American  experience  that  coercion  would  not  answer  with 
the  people,  and  that  it  was  impossible  to  thrust  unjust  laws  upon  a 
people  or  nation.  According  to  Mr.  Froude,  England  was  only  too 
willing,  too  happy,  in  the  year  1780  to  repeal  all  the  bad  laws  that 
had  been  passed  in  the  blindness  and  bigotry  of  bygone  ages,  and  to 
grant  to  Ireland  real  redress  of  all  her  grievances.  "But  the  Irish 
people,”  says  Mr.  Froude,  " instead  of  demanding  from  England  a 
redress  for  their  grievances,  insisted  upon  their  national  and  parlia- 
mentary independence.  And  they  were  fools  in  this,”  he  says,  for 
that  very  independence  led  to  internal  contention,  from  contention  to 
conspiracy,  from  conspiracy  to  rebellion,  and  from  rebellion  to 
tyranny.”  Now,  I am  as  great  an  enemy  of  political  agitation  as  Mr. 
Froude  or  any  other  man.  I hold,  and  I hold  it  by  experience,  that 
political  agitation  distracts  men’s  minds  from  more  serious  and  more 
necessary  avocations  of  life ; that  political  agitation  distracts  men’s 
minds  away  from  their  business  and  from  the  safer  pursuits  of  in- 
dustry, while  it  creates  animosity  and  bad  blood  between  citizens ; 
that  it  affords  an  easy  and  profitable  employment  to  worthless  dem- 
agogues, and  that  it  brings  very  often  to  the  surface  the  vilest  and 
meanest  elemeut  of  society.  All  this  I grant.  But  at  the  same  time 


PEECHE 


John  Philpot  Curran. 


[SIS] 


,1 


On  Attachments, 


February  24,  1785. 

Renewed  efforts  were  made  in  1784  for  Reform.  In  consequence  of  a requisi- 
tion, Henry  Reilly,  Esq.,  Sheriff  of  the  county  of  Dublin,  summoned  his  bailiwick 
to  the  court-house  of  Kilmainham,  for  the  15th  of  October,  1784,  to  elect  members 
to  a national  congress.  For  this  Mr.  Reilly  was  attached  by  the  King’s  Bench,  on 
a crown  motion,  and,  on  the  24th  of  February,  1785,  the  Right  Hon.  William 
Brownlow  moved  a vote  of  censure  on  the  judges  of  that  court  for  the  attachment. 

HOPE  I may  say  a few  words  on  this  great  subject,  without 
disturbing  the  sleep  of  any  right  honorable  member  [the  Attor- 
torney-General  * had  fallen  asleep  on  his  seat]  : and  yet  per- 
haps, I ought  rather  to  envy  than  blame  the  tranquility  of  the 
right  honorable  gentleman.  I do  not  feel  myself  so  happily  tem- 
pered, as  to  be  lulled  to  repose  by  the  storms  that  shake  the  land. 
If  they  invite  rest  to  any,  that  rest  ought  not  to  be  lavished  on  the 
guilty  spirit.  I never  more  strongly  felt  the  necessity  of  a perfect 
union  with  Britain,  of  standing  or  falling  with  her  in  fortune  and 
constitution,  than  on  this  occasion.  She  is  the  parent,  the  arche- 
type of  Irish  liberty,  which  she  has  preserved  inviolate  in  its  grand 
points,  while  among  us  it  has  been  violated  and  debased.  I now 
call  upon  the  house  to  consider  the  trust  reposed  in  them  as  the 
Great  Inquest  of  the  people. 

I respect  judges  highly ; they  ought  to  be  respected,  and  feel 
their  dignity  and  freedom  from  reprehension,  while  they  do  what 
judges  ought  to  do ; but  their  stations  should  not  screen  them, 
tvhen  they  pass  the  limit  of  their  duty.  Whether  they  did  or  hot, 

* John  Fitzgibbon.  He  was  made  Solicitor-General  on  the  9th  of  November, 
1783,  and  on  the  20th  of  December,  1783,  succeeded  Yelverton  as  Attorney-General. 
This  latter  office  he  retained  till  he  was  raised  to  the  Chancellorship,  on  the  12th  of 
August,  1789,  thus  making  way  for  Arthur  Wolfe,  afterwards  Lord  Kilwarden. 

(815) 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


316 

is  the  question.  This  house  is  the  judge  of  those  judges;  audit 
would  betray  the  people  to  tyranny,  and  abdicate  their  representa- 
tion, if  it  do  not  act  with  probity  and  firmness. 

In  their  proceedings  against  Reilly,  I think  they  have  trans- 
gressed the  law,  and  made  a precedent,  which  while  it  remains,  is 
subversive  of  the  trial  by  jury,  and,  of  course,  of  liberty.  I regard 
the  constitution,  I regard  the  judges,  three  of  that  court  at  least; 
and,  for  their  sakes,  I shall  endeavor  to  undo  what  they  have  done. 

The  question  is  whether  the  court  has  really  punished  its  own 
officer  for  a real  contempt ; or  whether  it  has  abused  that  power,  for 
the  illegal  end  of  punishing  a supposed  offence  against  the  state,  by 
a summary  proceeding,  without  a trial  by  jury. 

The  question  is  plain,  whether  as  a point  of  constitution,  or  as  of 
law ; but  I shall  first  consider  it  in  the  former  view.  When  I feel 
the  constitution  rocking  over  my  head,  my  first  anxiety  is  to 
explore  the  foundation,  to  see  if  the  great  arches  that  support  the 
fabric  have  fallen  in ; but  I find  them  firm,  on  the  solid  and  massy 
principle  of  Common  Law.  The  principle  of  legal  liberty  is,  that 
offence,  and  trial,  and  punishment,  should  be  fixed;  it  is  sense,  it  is 
Magna  Charta  — a trial  by  jury,  as  to  fact,  an  appeal  to  judges  as 
to  law. 

I admit  Attachment  an  exception  to  the  general  rule,  as  founded 
in  necessity,  for  the  support  of  courts,  in  administering  justice,  by 
a summary  control  over  their  officers  acting  under  them ; but  the 
necessity  that  gave  rise  to  it  is  also  the  limit.  If  it  were  extended 
farther,  it  would  reach  to  all  criminal  cases  not  capital ; and  in  the 
room  of  a jury,  crimes  would  be  created  by  a judge,  the  party 
accused  by  him,  found  guilty  by  him,  punished  by  the  utter  loss  of 
his  liberty  and  property  for  life,  by  indefinite  fine  and  imprison- 
ment without  remedy  or  appeal.  If  he  did  not  answer  he  was 
guilty ; even  if  he  did,  the  court  might  think  or  say  it  thought,  the 
answer  evasive,  and  so  convict  him  for  imputed  prevarication. 

The  power  of  Attachment  is  wisely  confined  by  the  British  laws, 
and  practised  within  that  limit.  The  crown  lawyers  have  not  pro- 
duced a single  case  where  the  King’s  Bench  in  England  have  gone 
bej'ond  it.  They  have  ranged  through  the  annals  of  history  • 
through  every  reign  of  folly  and  of  blood ; through  the  proud  domi- 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN.  335 


Pensions. 


March  13th,  1786. 

The  endeavour  to  regain  by  corruption  what  was  surrendered  to  force,  began  in 
1782,  and  increased  greatly  after  the  defeat  of  Orde’s  Propositions.  To  restrain 
this,  Mr.  Forbes,  on  the  13th  of  March,  1786,  moved  for  leave  to  bring  in  a bill  to 
limit  the  amount  of  pensions.  It  was  read  a first  time,  and  he  then  moved  that  it 
“ be  read  a second  time  to-morrow.”  Sir  Hercules  Langrishe  moved  the  adjourn- 
ment of  the  question  to  August  (i.  e.  altogether),  in  a speech  full  of  Hanoverian 
doctrines,  and  was  supported  by  (amongst  others)  Sir  Boyle  Roche,  in  an  absurd 
speech,  which,  as  a specimen  of  his  celebrated  style,  we  insert : — 

“ Sir  Boyle  Roche  — I opposed  this  bill  at  its  first  rising  in  this  house,  in  the  shape 
of  a motion.  [The  house  called  to  Sir  Boyle  to  speak  up.]  Indeed  I think  it  nec- 
essary that  I should  overcome  my  bashfulness  and  I lament  that  I was  not  brought 
up  to  the  learned  profession  of  the  law,  for  that  is  the  best  remedy  for  bashfulness 
of  all  sorts. 

“ The  just  prerogative  of  the  crown  and  the  rights  of  parliament  are  the  main  pil- 
lars that  support  the  ponderous  pile  of  our  constitution.  I never  will  consent  to 
meddle  with  either,  lest  I should  bring  the  whole  building  about  my  ears. 

“ I would  not  stop  the  fountain  of  royal  favor,  but  let  it  flow  freely,  spontane- 
ously and  abundantly  as  Holywell  in  Wales,  that  turns  so  many  mills.  Indeed  some 
of  the  best  men  have  drank  of  this  fountain,  which  gives  honor  as  well  as  vigor. 
This  is  my  way  of  thinking ; at  the  same  time  I feel  as  much  integrity  and  principle 
as  any  man  that  hears  me.  Principle  is  the  fair  ground  to  act  upon,  and  that  any 
man  should  doubt  the  principle  of  another,  because  he  happens  to  differ  with  him  in 
opinion,  is  so  bad  an  act  that  I do  not  choose  to  give  it  a name.  — Debates,  Vol.  VI., 

pp.  280,  81. 

«^||j|R.  CURRAN  said  — I object  to  adjourning  this  bill  to  the  first 
of  August,  because  I perceive  in  the  present  disposition  of 

rthe  house,  that  a proper  decision  will  be  made  upon  it  this 
night.  We  have  set  out  upon  our  enquiry  in  a manner  so 
honorable,  and  so  consistent,  that  we  have  reason  to  expect  the  hap- 
piest success,  which  I would  not  wish  to  see  bafHed  by  delay. 


1330  treasury  of  eloquence. 

We  began  with  giving  the  full  affirmative  of  this  house,  that  no 
grievance  exists  at  all ; we  considered  a simple  matter  of  fact,  and 
adjourned  our  opinion  ; or  rather,  we  gave  sentence  on  the  conclu- 
sion, after  having  adjourned  the  premises.  But  I do  begin  to  see  a 
great  deal  of  argument  in  what  the  learned  Baronet  has  said  ; and  I 
beg  gentlemen  will  acquit  me  of  apostacy,  if  I offer  some  reasons  why 

the  bill  should  not  be  admitted  to  a second  reading. 

© 

I am  surprised  that  gentlemen  have  taken  up  such  a foolish  opinion, 
as  that  our  constitution  is  maintained  by  its  different  component  parts, 
mutually  checking  and  controlling  each  other ; they  seem  to  think, 
with  Hobbes,  that  a state  of  nature  is  a state  of  warfare  ; and  that, 
like  Mahomet's  coffin,  the  constitution  is  suspended  between  the  at- 
traction of  different  powers.  My  friends  seem  to  think  that  the 
crown  should  be  restrained  from  doing  wrong  by  a physical  necessity  ; 
forgetting  that  if  you  take  away  from  man  all  power  to  do  wrong, 
you,  at  the  same  time,  take  away  from  him  all  merit  of  doing  right; 
and,  by  making  it  impossible  for  men  to  run  into  slavery,  you  en- 
slave them  most  effectually.  But  if,  instead  of  the  three  different 
parts  of  our  constitution  drawing  forcibly  in  right  lines,  in  different 
directions,  they  were  to  unite  their  power,  and  draw  all  one  way,  in 
one  right  line,  how  great  would  be  the  effect  of  their  force,  how 
happy  the  direction  of  this  union  ! The  present  system  is  not  only 
contrary  to  mathematical  rectitude,  but  to  public  harmony ; but  if, 
instead  of  privilege  setting  up  his  back  to  oppose  prerogative,  he 
were  to  saddle  his  back,  aud  invite  prerogative  to  ride,  how  comfort- 
ably they  might  both  jog  along  ! and  therefore  it  delights  me  to  hear 
the  advocates  for  the  royal  bounty  flowing  freely,  and  spontaneously, 
and  abundantly,  as  Holywell  in  Wales.  If  the  crown  grant  double 
the  amount  of  the  revenue  in  pensions,  they  approve  of  their  royal 
master,  for  he  is  the  breath  of  their  nostrils. 

But  we  shall  find  that  this  complaisance,  this  gentleness  between 
the  crown  and  its  true  servants,  is  not  confined  at  home;  it  extends 
its  influence  to  foreign  powers.  Our  merchants  have  been  insulted 
in  Portugal,  our  commerce  interdicted  ; what  did  the  British  lion  do  ? 
Did  he  whet  his  tusks?  did  he  bristle  up,  and  shake  his  mane?  * 
did  he  roar?  No;  no  such  thing ; the  gentle  creatui  e wagged  his 
tail  for  six  years  at  the  court  of  Lisbon  ; and  now  we  hear  from  the 
Delphic  Oracle  on  the  treasury  bench,  ffiat  he  is  wagging  his  tail  in 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN. 


337 


London  to  Chevalier  Pinto,  who,  he  hopes  soon  to  be  able  to  tell  us, 
will  allow  his  lady  to  entertain  him  as  a lap-dog ; and  when  she  does, 
no  doubt  the  British  factory  will  furnish  some  of  their  softest  wool- 
lens, to  make  a cushion  for  him  to  lie  upon.  But  though  the  gentle 
beast  has  continued  so  long  fawning  and  couching,  I believe  his  ven- 
geance will  be  great  as  it  is  slow ; and  that  posterity,  whose  ances- 
tors are  yet  unborn,  will  be  surprised  at  the  vengeance  he  will 
take  ! 

This  polyglot  of  wealth,  this  museum  of  curiosities,  the  pension 
list,  embraces  every  link  in  the  human  chain,  every  description  of 
men,  women,  and  children,  from  the  exalted  excellence  of  a Hawke 
or  a Rodney,  to  the  debased  situation  of  the  lady  who  humbleth  her- 
self that  she  may  be  exalted.  But  the  lessons  it  inculcates  form  its 
greatest  perfection  ; it  teacheth,  that  slowth  and  vice  ma}r  eat  that 
bread  which  virtue  and  honesty  may  starve  for  after  they  have  earned 
it.  It  teaches  the  idle  and  dissolute  to  look  up  for  that  support 
which  they  are  too  proud  to  stoop  and  earn.  It  directs  the  minds  of 
men  to  an  entire  reliance  on  the  ruling  power  of  the  state,  who  feed 
the  ravens  of  the  royal  aviary,  that  cry  continually  for  food.  It 
teaches  them  to  imitate  those  saints  on  the  pension  list  that  are  like 
the  lilies  of  the  field,  they  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin,  and  yet  are 
arrayed  like  Solomon  in  his  glory.  In  fine,  it  teaches  a lesson, 
which,  indeed,  they  might  have  learned  from  Epictetus,  that  it  is 
sometimes  good  not  to  be  over  virtuous  ; it  shows,  that  in  propor- 
tion as  our  distresses  increase,  the  munificence  of  the  crown  increases 
also ; in  proportion  as  our  clothes  are  rent,  the  royal  mantle  is 
extended  over  us. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  pension  list,  like  charity,  covers  a mul- 
titude of  sins,  give  me  leave  to  consider  it  as  coming  home  to  the 
members  of  this  house  — give  mo  leave  to  say,  that  the  crown,  in 
extending  its  charity,  its  liberality,  its  profusion,  is  laying  a founda- 
tion for  the  independence  of  parliament ; for  hereafter,  instead  of 
orators  or  patriots  accounting  for  their  conduct  to  such  mean  and 
unworthy  persons  as  freeholders,  they  will  learn  to  despise  them, 
and  look  to  the  first  man  in  the  state  ; and  they  will,  by  so  doing, 
have  this  security  for  their  independence,  that  while  any  man  in  the 
kingdom  has  a shilling,  they  will  not  Avant  one. 

Suppose  at  any  future  period  of  time  the  boroughs  of  Ireland 


3;j 8 TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE.  . 

should  decline  from  their  present  flourishing  and  prosperous  state  — 
suppose  they  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  men  who  would  wish  to 
drive  a profitable  commerce,  by  having  members  of  parliament  to 
hire  or  let;  in  such  a case  a secretary  would  And  great  difficulty,  if 
the  proprietors  of  members  should  enter  into  a combination  to  form 
a monopoly  : to  prevent  which,  in  time,  the  wisest  way  is  to  pur- 
chase up  the  raw  material,  young  members  of  parliament,  just  rough 
from  the  grass  ; and  when  they  are  a little  bitted,  and  he  has  got  a 
pretty  stud,  perhaps  of  seventy,  he  may  laugh  at  the  slave  merchant ; 
some  of  them  he  may  teach  to  sound  through  the  nose,  like  a barrel 
organ  ; some,  in  the  course  of  a few  months,  might  be  taught  to  cry, 
"Hear!  hear!”  some  "Chair!  chair!”  upon  occasion  — though 
those  latter  might  create  a little  confusion,  if  they  were  to  forget 
whether  they  were  calling  inside  or  outside  of  those  doors.  Again 
he  might  have  some  so  trained  that  he  need  only  pull  a string,  and 
up  gets  a repeating  member : and  if  they  were  so  dull  that  they 
could  neither  speak  nor  make  orations  (for  they  are  different  things), 
he  might  have  them  taught  to  dance,  pedibus  ire  in  sententia.  This 
improvement  might  be  extended : he  might  have  them  dressed  in 
coats  and  shirts  all  of  one  color ; and,  of  a Sunday,  he  might  march 
them  to  church  two  by  two,  to  the  great  edification  of  the  people, 
and  the  honor  of  tbe  Christian  religion ; afterwards,  like  ancient 
Spartans,  or  the  fraternity  of  Kilmainham,  they  might  dine  all  to- 
gether in  a large  hall.  Good  heaven  ! what  a sight  to  see  them  feeding 
in  public,  upon  public  viands,  and  talking  of  public  subjects,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  public  ! It  is  a pity  they  are  not  immortal ; but  I hope 
they  will  flourish  as  a corporation,  and  that  pensioners  will  beget 
pensioners,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter. — Debates , Vol.  VI.,  pp.  281-4. 

The  adjournment  was,  however,  carried.  We  shall  presently  find  that  the  bill 
was  renewed,  and  supported  by  Curran,  in  the  next  year. 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN. 


339 


Stamp  Officers’  Salaries. 


February  4th,  1790.* 

On  this  day  Curran  spoke  and  proposed  as  follows  : — 

RISE  with  that  deep  concern  and  melancholy  hesitation,  which 
HI  a man  must  feel  who  does  not  know  whether  he  is  addressing 
ipC  an  independent  parliament,  the  representatives  of  the  people 
i of  Ireland,  or  whether  he  is  addressing  the  representatives  of 
corruption.  I rise  to  make  the  experiment;  and  I approach  the 
question  with  all  the  awful  feelings  of  a man  who  finds  a dear  friend 
prostrate  and  wounded  on  the  ground,  and  who  dreads  lest  the 
means  he  should  use  to  recover  him  may  only  serve  to  show  that  he 
is  dead  and  gone  forever.  I rise  to  make  an  experiment  upon  the 
representatives  of  the  people  — whether  they  have  abdicated  their 
trust,  and  have  become  the  paltry  representatives  of  castle  influence  ; 
it  is  to  make  an  experiment  on  the  feelings  and  probity  of  gentle- 
men, as  was  done  on  a great  personage,  when  it  was  said  "Thou  art 
the  man.”  It  is  not  a question  respecting  a paltry  viceroy  ; no,  it  is 
a question  between  the  body  of  the  country  and  the  administration  ; 
it  is  a charge  against  the  government,  for  opening  the  batteries  of 
corruption  against  the  liberties  of  the  people.  The  grand  inquest 
of  the  nation  are  called  on  to  decide  this  charge ; they  are 
called  on  to  declare  whether  they  would  appear  as  the  prosecutors 
or  the  accomplices  of  corruption  ; for  though  the  question  relative  to 
the  division  of  the  Boards  of  Stamps  and  Accounts  is  in  itself  of 
little  importance,  yet  it  will  develop  a system  of  corruption  tending 

* It  is  right  to  mention  here  that  on  the  5th  of  January,  1790,  John  Fane,  Earl  of 
Westmoreland,  succeeded  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham  as  Viceroy,  and  Mr.  R.  Ho- 
bart (afterwards  Earl  of  Buckinghamshire ) , became  Secretary  to  the  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant. 


340  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

to  the  utter  destruction  of  Irish  liberty,  and  to  the  separation  of  the 
connexion  with  England. 

I brin<z  forward  an  act  of  the  meanest  administration  that  ever 
disgraced  this  country.  I bring  it  forward  as  one  of  the  threads  by 
which,  united  with  others  of  similar  texture,  vermin  of  the  meanest 
kind  have  been  able  to  tie  down  a body  of  strength  and  importance. 
Let  me  not  be  supposed  to  rest  here  ; when  the  murderer  left  the 
mark  of  his  bloody  hand  upon  the  wall,  it  was  not  the  trace  of  one 
finger,  but  the  whole  impression  which  convicted  him.* * * § 

The  Board  of  Accounts  was  instituted  in  Lord  Townshend’s  ad- 
ministration ;f  it  came  forward  in  a manner  rather  inauspicious; 
it  was  questioned  in  parliament,  and  decided  for  by  the  majority 
of  the  five  members  who  had  received  places  under  it.  Born  in 
corruption,  it  could  only  succeed  by  venality.  It  continued  a use- 
less board  until  the  granting  of  the  stamp  duties,  in  Lord  Harcourt’s 
time;|  the  management  of  the  stamps  was  then  committed  to  it, 
and  a solemn  compact  was  made  that  the  taxes  should  not  be  jobbed, 
but  that  both  departments  should  be  executed  by  one  board.  So 
it  continued  till  it  was  thought  necessary  to  increase  the  salaries  of 
the  commissioners,  in  the  Marquis  of  Buckingham’s  famous  admin- 
tration.§ 

Then  nothing  was  held  secret ; the  increase  of  the  Revenue 
Board,  the  increase  of  the  Ordnance,  thirteen  thousand  pounds  a 
year  added  to  the  infamous  Pension  List  — these  were  not  sufficient, 
but  a compact  which  should  have  been  held  sacred  was  violated,  in 
order  to  make  places  for  members  of  parliament.  How  indecent ! 
two  county  members  prying  into  stamps  ! What  could  have  pro- 
voked this  insult?  I will  tell  you.  You  remember  when  the  sceptre 
was  trembling  in  the  hand  of  an  almost  expiring  monarch  ; when  a 
factious  and  desperate  English  minister  attempted  to  grasp  it,  you 
stood  up  against  the  profanation  of  the  English  and  the  insult  offered 
to  the  Irish  crown  ; and  had  you  not  done  it,  the  union  of  the  empire 
would  have  been  dissolved.  You  remember  this  ; remember,  then, 

* Alluding  to  a notable  conviction  by  circumstantial  evidence. 

f From  1767  to  1772. 

J Lord  Harcourt  succeeded  Lord  Townshend. 

§ The  Marquis  of  Buckingham  was  Lord  Lieutenant  from  the  15th  of  September, 
1782,  to  the  3d  of  June,  1783,  as  Earl  Temple,  and  from  the  16th  of  December,  1787, 
fcs  the  6th  of  January,  1790,  as  Marquis  of  Buckingham. 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN. 


345 


Government  Corruption, 


February  12th,  1791. 


On  this  day  Curran  made  another  attempt  to  probe  the  impurities  of  government. 


CURRAN  observing  the  house  ^thin,  and  the  gallery 
llllll  crowded,  began  by  lamenting  that  curiosity  seemed  to  act 
more  powerfully  on  the  public  than  a sense  of  duty  on 
the  members  of  the  house.  After  saying  a few  words 
on  his  motives  in  making  the  intended  motion,  he  stated  its  im- 
portance as  going  to  induce  enquiry  into  a crime  which  must,  if 
not  punished  and  prevented,  ultimately  effect  the  destruction  of  the 
society  in  which  it  was  suffered  ; it  was  raising  men  to  the  peerage 
for  money,  which  was  disposed  of  to  purchase  the  liberties  of  the 
people. 


A man  who  stands  forth  an  accuser  in  a case  like  this  ought  to  be 
received  by  the  house  as  its  best  friend,  or,  if  his  accusation  should 
prove  unfounded  and  malicious,  then  the  heaviest  indignation  of  the 
house  should  fall  on  him.  When  a motion  of  similar  import  was 
proposed  on  a former  day,  I could  not  suppose  that  it  would  have 
met  with  opposition  ; but  finding  it  has  been  opposed,  I think  the 
house  must  have  objected  to  its  form,  and  that  they  w^ere  unwilling 
to  enter  into  an  enquiry  wherein  the  honor  and  privileges  of  the 
Lords,  as  well  as  those  of  this  house,  are  concerned,  without  their 
lordships’  concurrence. 

I am  not  inclined,  after  what  has  passed  so  recently  on  this  sub- 
ject, to  expatiate  on  tbe  enormity  of  the  act,  nor  on  the  wretched 
situation  of  those  nrserable  men  who  are,  by  it,  introduced  into  this 
house,  like  beasts  of  burden,  to  drudge  for  their  employers  — the 
humble  instruments  and  pliant  tools  of  power.  Still  less  am  I in- 


346  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

dined  to  depict  the  situation  of  those  who  are  introduced  into  the 
other,  clothed  in  the  robes  of  justice,  to  frame  laws,  and  dispose  ol 
the  property  of  the  kingdom,  under  the  direction  of  that  corruption 
by  which  they  have  been  raised.  It  would  be  more  useful  to  con- 
sider what  should  be  done  at  such  a crisis,  and  what  is  the  duty  of 
the  house  : and  this  duty  is  not  difficult  to  be  ascertained  — it  is  not 
to  be  cited  from  volumes  of  law ; wTe  are  the  grand  inquest  of  the 
nation  — it  is,  therefore,  our  duty  to  enquire  into  the  alleged  offence. 
Every  man  capable  of  sitting  on  a Grand  Jury  is  adequate  to  the 
enquiry;  the  oath  of  the  Grand  Juror  suggests  their  duty  — not  to 
suppress  from  malice,  nor  find  from  favor. 

I have  heard  it  affirmed  that  common  fame  is  not  sufficient  ground 
to  institute  this  enquiry ; but,  on  the  principle  of  the  constitution,  I 
do  assert  that  common  feme  is  a full  and  sufficient  ground  of  enquiry  ; 
and  I appeal  to  the  house  — to  the  kingdom  — whether  any  report 
can  be  more  prevalent,  or  more  credited,  than  that  such  corrupt  con- 
tract as  I have  mentioned,  was  entered  into  by  administration. 

But  I rest  not  on  common  fame  — I have  proof,  and  I stake  my 
character  on  producing  such  evidence  to  a committee  as  shall  fully 
and  incontrovertibly  establish  the  fact,  that  a contract  has  been  en- 
tered into  by  the  present  ministers  to  raise  to  the  peerage  certain 
persons,  on  condition  of  their  purchasing  a certain  number  of  seats 
in  this  house.  This  evidence,  however,  I will  not  produce,  till  a 
committee  shall  be  appointed ; for  no  man  can  suppose  that  a man 
who  is  rich  enough  to  purchase  a peerage  is  not  rich  enough  to  cor- 
rupt the  witnesses,  if  I should  produce  them  at  the  bar,  before  an 
inquiry  is  instituted. 

I call  on  any  lawyer  to  say,  whether  a man  professing  himself 
ready  to  prosecute,  and  staking  himself  to  convict,  would  not,  in 
any  court,  be  admitted  to  go  into  trial?  I call  on  lawyers  to  answer 
this  question,  for  on  this  it  depends,  not  whether  the  culprits  shall 
be  tried,  but  whether  the  Commons  of  Ireland  shall  be  acquitted.  I 
call  on  you  to  be  cautious  in  your  decision  of  this  question,  for  you 
are  in  the  hearing  of  a great  number  of  the  people  of  Ireland. 

The  Speaker  called  to  order,  and  informed  him  it  was  unparliamentary  to  allude 
to  strangers  — that  there  was  a standing  order,  which  excluded  strangers,  and  if 
any  allusions  are  made  by  a member,  he  must  enforce  the  order.  Sir  H.  Cavendish 
also  spoke  to  order,  and  censured  Mr.  Curran’s  language  as  highly  disorderly. 

JOHN  P.  CURRAN.  355 


Catholic  Emancipation, 


February  18th,  1792. 

Cttrran  was  the  unchanging  friend  of  religious  liberty.  The  Catholics  had  vainly 
Grayed  for  a relaxation  of  the  Penal  Code,  till  the  destruction  of  the  British  armies 
n America  — then  they  succeeded.  Again  they  prayed  for  further  relaxation  ; their 
. rayer  was  supported  by  Grattan  and  Curran  and  failed,  till,  in  1792-3,  when  Wolfe 
. one  had  worked  up  a Catholic  organization,  and  the  French  armies  began  to  cou- 
1 uer,  when  they  gained  fresh  privileges. 

The  proceedings  on  the  18th  of  February,  on  the  Roman  Catholic  Relief  Bill  are 
most  remarkable.  They  began  by  the  presentation  of  a petition  from  the  Protes- 
tants of  the  County  Antrim  for  the  bill.  A conversation  on  their  admission  to  Trin- 
ity College  then  occurred,  which  is  so  important  as  to  deserve  quotation  : — 

Mr.  Grattan  gave  notice,  that  in  addition  to  the  privileges  now  about  to  be 
granted  to  the  Roman  Catholics,  the  power  of  becoming  Professors  of  Botany, 
Anatomy,  and  Chemistry,  should  be  given.* 

Hon.  Mr.  Knox  said  he  also  intended  to  propose  that  they  should  be  permitted  to 
take  the  academic  degrees  in  the  University  of  Dublin. 

Hon.  Denis  Browne  rose  to  say,  he  would  second  both  these  intentions. 

The  Attorney-General  said,  under  the  present  laws  of  the  University,  Roman 
Catholics  could  not  be  admitted  to  take  degx-ees  without  taking  the  oaths  usually 
faken  by  Protestants.  As  the  University  is  a corporation  deriving  by  charter  under 
the  crown,  and  governed  by  the  laws  prescribed  by  its  founder,  it  would  not  be  very 
decorous  for  parliament  to  break  through  those  laws ; but  the  king  might,  if  such 
was  his  pleasure,  direct  the  College  to  dispense  with  these  oaths;  and  in  his  opin- 
ion it  would  be  wise  to  do  so. 

Mr.  Knox  said  it  was  not  his  intention  to  infringe  upon  any  prerogative  of  the 
crown,  but  he  could  not  see  how  this  proposal  was  an  infringement,  as  the  bill 
must  in  its  ultimate  stage,  pass  under  the  inspection  of  the  crown,  and  receive  the 
royal  assent.  Nevertheless,  if  any  gentleman  of  the  University  would  rise  and  say 
the  wish  of  the  University  was  to  have  these  impediments  removed,  he  would  then 
not  think  it  necessary  to  make  the  motion. 

Sir  Hercules  Langrishe  — The  bill  is  intended  to  remove  certain  disabilities  which 
the  Catholics  (by  law)  labor  under.  Now  there  is  no  law  as  to  this  point : When  it 
became  necessary  for  me,  in  framing  the  bill,  to  search  through  the  laws  relative  to 
education,  I found  there  was  no  law  to  prohibit  Roman  Catholics  from  taking 
degrees,  but  ti«  rules  of  the  University  itself;  these  rules  can  be  changed  when- 
ever the  crown  r ill  think  proper,  but  it  would  be  very  unbecoming  for  the  parlia- 


356  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

meat  to  interfere.  As  to  the  principle  there  can  be  no  difference  of  opinion;  we 
differ  only  as  to  the  mode  of  carrying  it  into  effect. 

Doctor  Browne  (of  the  College)  — I am  unable  to  say  w'nat  the  sentiments  of  the 
heads  of  the  College  are  upon  this  subject,  as  they  have  not  informed  me;  but  the 
reason  the  right  honorable  gentleman  has  stated  is  certainly  the  true  reason  whj 
Roman  Catholics  are  not  admitted  to  degrees.  If  it  shall  be  deemed  expedient  to 
admit  them,  the  college  must  be  much  enlarged,  and  a greater  number  of  governors 
must  be  appointed.  My  own  sentiment  is,  that  such  a measure  would  tend  much 
to  remove  prejudices,  and  to  make  them  coalesce  with  Protestants.  This  is  my 
own  sentiment,  and  the  sentiment  of  several  persons  of  the  University;  but  I can- 
not say  whether  it  be  the  sentiment  of  the  majority.  If  the  house  shall  think  the 
measure  expedient,  they  may  address  his  Majesty  to  remove  the  oath  which  bars 
them  from  taking  degrees. 

After  the  presentation  of  a petition  by  Mr.  Egan,  for  the  restoration  of  the  elec- 
tive franchise,  the  discussion  on  the  bill  proceeded.  The  speeches  of  Michael 
Smith,  Hutchinson,  Grattan,  and  Curran,  gave  the  bill  most  powerful  support.  One 
of  the  boldest  and  finest  speeches  was  that  of  the  Hon.  George  Knox  — a man  too 
little  remembered 

S|||pR.  CURRAN  said  — I would  have  yielded  to  the  lateness  of  the 
lllllll  hour,  my  own  indisposition,  and  the  fatigue  of  the  house, 
and  have  let  the  motion  pass  without  a word  from  me  on 
the  subject,  if  I had  not  heard  some  principles  advanced 
which  could  not  pass  without  animadversion,  I know  that 
a trivial  subject  of  the  day  would  naturally  engage  you  more  deeply 
than  any  more  distant  object,  of  however  greater  importance,  but  I 
beg  you  will  recollect,  that  the  petty  interest  of  party  must  expire 
with  yourselves,  and  that  your  heirs  must  be  not  statesmen,  nor 
placemen,  nor  pensioners,  but  the  future  people  of  the  country  at 
larg;e.  I know  of  no  so  awful  call  upon  the  justice  and  wisdom  of 
an  assembly,  as  the  reflection  that  they  are  deliberating  on  the 
interests  of  posterity.  On  this  subject,  I cannot  but  lament,  that 
the  conduct  of  the  administration  is  so  unhappily  calculated  to  dis- 
turb and  divide  the  public  mind,  to  prevent  the  nation  from  receiv- 
ing so  great  a question  with  the  coolness  it  requires. 

At  Cork,  the  present  viceroy  was  pleased  to  reject  a most  moder- 
ate and  modest  petition  from  the  Catholics  of  that  city.  The  next 
step  was  to  create  a division  among  the  Catholics  themselves ; the 
next  was  to  hold  them  up  as  a body  formidable  to  the  English  gov- 
ernment, and  to  their  Protestant  fellow-subjects  ; for  how  else  could 
any  man  account  for  the  scandalous  publication  which  was  hawked 
about  this  city,  in  which  his  Majesty  was  made  to  give  his  royal 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN.  361 

fourth.  I am  sorry  to  think  it  is  so  very  easy  to  conceive,  that  in 
case  of  such  an  event,  the  inevitable  consequence  would  be  an  union 
! with  Great  Britain.  And  if  any  one  desires  to  know  what  that 
would  be,  I will  tell  him.  It  would  be  the  emigration  of  every  man 
of  consequence  from  Ireland  ; it  would  be  the  participation  of  British 
taxes,  without  British  trade ; it  would  be  the  extinction  of  the  Irish 
name  as  a people.  We  should  become  a wretched  colony,  perhaps 
leased  out  to  a company  of  Jews,  as  was  formerly  in  contemplation, 
and  governed  by  a few  tax-gatherers  and  excisemen,  unless,  possibly, 
you  may  add  fifteen  or  twenty  couple  of  Irish  members,  who  may  be 
found  every  session  sleeping  in  their  collars  under  the  manger  of  the 
British  minister.  — Debates,  Vol.  XII.,  pp.  174-178. 


3G2 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE 


Rev,  William  Jackson, 


April  23d,  1795. 

Mr.  W.  H.  Curran,  In  the  Memoirs  of  his  Father,  thus  describes  Jackson : — 

“ Mr.  Jackson  was  a clergyman  of  the  Established  Church ; he  was  a native  of 
Ireland,  but  he  had  for  several  years  resided  out  of  that  country.  He  spent  a part 
of  his  life  in  the  family  of  the  noted  Duchess  of  Kingston,  and  is  said  to  have  been 
the  person  who  conducted  that  lady’s  controversy  with  the  celebrated  Foote.  At 
the  period  of  the  French  Revolution  he  passed  over  to  Paris,  where  he  formed 
political  connections  with  the  constituted  authorities.  From  France  he  returned  to 
London,  in  1794,  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  information  as  to  the  practicability 
of  an  invasion  of  England,  and  was  thence  to  proceed  to  Ireland  on  a similar  mis. 
sion.  Upon  his  arrival  in  London,  he  renewed  an  intimacy  with  a person  named 
Cockayne,  who  had  formerly  been  his  friend  and  confidential  attorney.  The  extent 
of  his  communications,  in  the  first  instance,  to  Cockayne,  did  not  exactly  appear. 
The  latter,  however,  was  prevailed  upon  to  write  the  directions  of  several  of  Jack- 
son’s letters,  containing  treasonable  matters,  to  his  correspondents  abroad ; but  in 
a little  time,  either  suspecting  or  repenting  that  he  had  been  furnishing  evidence  of 
treason  against  himself,  he  revealed  to  the  British  Minister,  Mr.  Pitt,  all  that  he  knew 
or  conjectured  relative  to  Jackson’s  objects.  By  the  desire  of  Mr.  Pitt,  Cockayne 
accompanied  Jackson  to  Ireland,  to  watch  and  defeat  his  designs ; and  as  soon  as 
the  evidence  of  his  treason  was  mature,  announced  himself  as  a witness  for  the 
crown.  Mr.  Jackson  was  accordingly  arrested,  and  committed  to  stand  his  trial  for 
high  treason. 

“ Mr.  Jackson  was  committed  to  prison  in  April,  1794,  but  his  trial  was  delayed, 
by  successive  adjournments,  till  the  same  month  in  the  following  year.  In  the  inter- 
val he  wrote  and  published  a refutation  of  Paine’s  Age  of  Reason,  probably  in  the 
hope  that  it  might  be  accepted  as  an  atonement.  He  was  convicted,  and  brought  up 
for  judgment  on  the  30th  of  April,  1795.” 

He  was  indicted  for  treason  in  the  Summer  of  1794 ; but,  sometimes  for  the  crown, 
and  others  for  the  prisoner,  the  trial  was  postponed  till  the  23d  of  April,  1795. 

Court — Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Clonmel,  Chief  Justice;  * Hon.  Mr.  Justice 
Downes,  Hon.  Mr.  Justice  Chamberlaine. 

Counsel  for  the  Crown  — Mr.  Attorney-General,  Mr.  Prime-Sergeant,  Mr.  Solici- 
tor-General, Mr.  Frankland  and  Mr.  Trench.  Agent— Thomas  Kemmis,  Esq., 
Crown  Solicitor. 

*Hon  Mr.  Justice  Boyd  was  prevented  from  attending  by  indisposition. 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN.  375 

what  the  idea  of  the  statute  is  ; it  is  that  it  must  be  an  overt  act 
brought  home  to  the  prisoner  by  each  of  the  two  witnesses  swearing 
to  it.  If  Do  Joncourt's  evidence  stood  single,  it  could  not  have 
brought  anything  home  to  Jackson.  Cockayne  swore  the  super- 
scription was  his  writing;  he  put  the  letters  into  the  office.  De 
Joncourt  said  nothing  but  that  he  found  in  the  office  a letter  which 
he  produced,  and  which  Cockayne  said  was  the  one  he  had  put  into 
it.  This  observation  appears  to  collect  additional  strength  from  this 
circumstance.  Why  did  they  not  produce  Tone?  It  is  said  they 
could  not.  I say  they  could.  It  was  as  easy  to  pardon  him  as  to 
pardon  Cockayne.  But  whether  he  was  guilty  or  not,  is  no  objec- 
tion. Shall  it  be  said  that  the  argument  turns  about  and  affects 
Jackson  as  much  as  it  does  the  prosecutor?  I think  certainly  not. 
Jackson,  I believe  it  has  appeared  in  the  course  of  the  evidence,  and 
is  matter  of  judicial  knowledge  to  the  court,  has  lain  in  prison  for 
twelve  months  past,  from  the  moment  of  his  arrest  to  the  moment  of 
his  trial.  If  he  is  conscious  that  the  charge  is  false,  it  is  impossible 
for  him  to  prove  that  falsehood  ; he  was  so  circumstanced  as  that  he 
could  not  procure  the  attendance  of  witnesses ; a stranger  in  the 
country,  he  could  not  tell  whether  some  of  the  persons  named  were 
in  existence  or  not. 

I have  before  apologized  to  you  for  trespassing  upon  your  patience, 
and  I have  again  trespassed  — let  me  not  repeat  it.  I shall  only 
take  the  liberty  of  reminding  you,  that  if  you  have  any  doubt,  in  a 
criminal  case  doubt  should  be  acquittal ; that  you  are  trying  a case 
which  if  tried  in  England  would  preclude  the  jury  from  the  possibility 
of  finding  a verdict  of  condemnation.  It  is  for  you  to  put  it  into 
the  power  of  mankind  to  say,  that  that  which  should  pass  harmlessly 
over  the  head  of  a man  in  Great  Britain  shall  blast  him  here ; — 
whether  life  is  more  valuable  in  that  country  than  in  this,  or  whether 
a verdict  may  more’  easily  be  obtained  here  in  a case  tending  to 
establish  pains  and  penalties  of  this  severe  nature. 


376 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus, 


October  14th,  1796. 

Committee  Ponsonby  opposed  the  bill ; so  did  Curran : — 

CONJURE  the  house  to  reflect  seriously  upon  the  moment  that 
has  been  chosen  by  administration  for  the  bringing  in  of  this  bill ; 
I think  it  a melancholy  proof  of  their  want  of  temper  and  their 
want  of  judgment.  My  right  honorable  friend  moved  an 
amendment  to  the  address  in  favor  of  the  Roman  Catholics  ; it  was  a 
motion  of  the  very  utmost  importance  ; in  the  debates  upon  that  motion 
the  rights  of  the  Roman  Catholics  were  strongly  urged,  and  as  strongly 
opposed ; the  disposition  of  the  administration  towards  them  was 
fully  manifested,  and  the  motion  was  rejected.  Of  the  propriety  of 
that  rejection  I will  not  speak — I cannot  but  lament  it;  I lament 
still  more  the  effect  that  I am  sure  the  making  of  the  present  bill  the 
immediate  sequel  to  that  rejection,  will  have  on  the  public  mind. 
[He  dwelt  strongly  upon  the  indiscretion  of  ministers,  in  thus  ap- 
pearing to  make  the  bill  be  an  attack  and  an  insult  upon  the  Catho- 
lics ; and  then  replied  to  the  arguments  that  had  been  used  in 
support  of  the  measure  ; he  adverted  to  the  bills  of  the  last  session.] 
The  Habeas  Corpus  act  is  almost  the  only  remaining  guardian  of  our 
liberties  ; and  the  ministry  have  stabbed  the  guardian  upon  its  post 
and  in  the  dark.  The  house  was  exhausted  by  a long  debate  upon  a 
subject  of  the  last  importance  to  the  union  and  to  the  peace  of  the 
country ; those  members  of  parliament  who  were  likely  to  defend 
this  last  privilege  of  the  people  were  withdrawn,  and  it  was  not  till 
the  next  morning  that  they  were  told  in  their  beds,  that  the  Habeas 
Corpus  act  was  repealed.  That  sacred  palladium  of  our  liberties 
which  was  never  suffered  to  sleep,  ought  not  to  have  been  stolen 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN.  379 


Last  Speech  in  the  Irish  Commons, 


May  15th,  1797. 

The  reader  has  seen  the  decreasing  minorities  of  the  party  who  gallantly  struggled 
to  maintain  the  parliamentary  constitution  of  Ireland.  But  they  grew  daily  more 
powerless.  The  people  looked  to  the  United  Irish  Executive,  to  France,  to  arms,  to 
revolution.  The  government  persisted  in  refusing  Reform  and  Emancipation,  con- 
tinued the  suspension  of  the  constitution,  and  incessantly  augmented  the  despotism 
of  their  laws,  the  profligacy  of  their  administration,  and  the  violence  of  their  soldiery 

— they  trusted  to  intimidation.  Under  these  circumstances,  the  opposition  deter- 
mined to  abandon  the  contest.  They  did  unwisely.  They  might  have  embarrassed 
ministers  seriously  in  the  following  year,  and  they  did  not  so,  nor  did  they  join  the 
military  organization  of  the  patriots. 

The  pre-determined  secession  took  place  on  the  loth  May,  1797.  As  the  proceed- 
ings are  of  peculiar  interest,  I copy  them  from  the  Debates : — 

The  expectation  of  the  very  important  business  which  was  announced  for  this  even- 
ing, the  Reform  in  the  Representation,  had  filled  the  galleries  at  three  o’clock.  The 
speaker  took  the  chair  at  four,  and  proceeded  to  business.  Two  debates  followed 

— the  one  on  the  Lords’  address,  the  other  on  the  Reform.  The  house  continued  to 
sit  until  past  five  next  morning. 

Lord  Castlereagh  pre-occupied  the  attention  of  the  house  by  moving,  that  the  ad- 
dress of  the  Lords  on  the  subject  of  the  treasonable  papers,  be  now  taken  into 
consideration.  The  address  contained  strong  expressions  of  the  loyalty  and  affection 
of  the  house  — alluded  in  very  strong  terms  to  the  enormity  and  extent  of  this 
traitorous  conspiracy — thanked  his  Majesty  for  the  measures  which  had  been 
already  taken  for  restoring  the  due  observation  of  the  laws,  and  recommended  to 
his  adoption  the  most  severe  measures  for  the  complete  suppression  of  these  dan- 
gerous disorders.  His  lordship  animadverted  on  the  danger  of  the  conspiracy  which 
had  given  occasion  to  this  address  — stated  its  object  to  be  the  overthrow  of  our 
most  excellent  constitution,  and  the  separation  of  this  country  from  Great  Britain 

— that  the  evidence  in  proof  of  these  assertions  had  been  so  full  that  even  the  most 
sceptic  could  not  doubt,  and  so  plain  that  no  man  could  question  the  inferences 
which  had  been  made  by  their  lordships.  His  lordship  then  entered  into  a long 
and  minute  history  of  the  society  of  United  Irishman,  repeating  nearly  what  had 
been  said  on  that  subject  in  the  report  of  the  Secret  Committee.  He  deprecated, 
in  any  debate  which  might  arise  on  this  question,  the  admixture  of  any  foreign 
matter  with  this  particular  subject,  which  was  simply  an  inquiry  into  the  most  ex- 
traordinary mass  of  treason  which  had  ever  appeared  in  the  country ; to  introduce 
any  other  matter  into  the  debate  would  be  construed  by  the  ignorance  of  the  coun- 


380 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


try  as  a proof  that  treason  and  traitors  had  abettors  even  within  those  walls.  A 
speech  of  much  vehemence  against  the  United  Irishmen  &c.,  was  concluded  by  a 
motion  — “that  the  Commons  should  agree  with  their  Lordships  in  this  address.” 

Mr.  Grattan  declared  that  he  did  not  on  this  subject  wish  to  bring  on  a debate,  as 
he  would  reserve  the  opinion  which  he  meant  to  give  at  large  on  the  state  of  the 
country,  for  the  debate  on  the  question  of  Reform.  He  could  not  help,  however, 
declaring,  that  to  that  part  of  the  address  which  expressed  approbation  of  the 
measures  of  government,  he  was  bound  in  consistency  not  to  give  any  approbation, 
neither  could  he  do  so  of  that  part  which  prayed  for  a contiuance  of  coercion,  be- 
cause he  believed  in  his  conscience  that  such  measures  could  be  productive  of  no 
good. 

Mr.  Smith,  after  a short  preface,  moved  an  amendment,  which  alone  could  recon- 
cile him  to  the  address.  His  amendment  was  in  substance  a request  that  his  Majesty 
would  use  conciliatory  measures  to  remove  every  pretext  of  discontent  from  the  well- 
disposed,  as  well  as  measures  of  coercion  for  the  prevention  and  punishment  of 
conspiracy  and  treason — urging  the  necessity  of  correcting  abuses,  as  well  as  adopt- 
ing strong  laws  to  repress  disaffection,  &c. 

This  amendment  introduced  much  very  animated  conversation  from  Mr.  George 
Ponsonby,  Mr.  Fletcher,  Mr.  Jephson,  Mr.  Grattan,  and  Mr.  Iloare,  who  supported 
the  amendment,  which  was  opposed  by  the  Attorney-General,  Denis  Browne,  Mr. 
Egan,  Sir  B,  Roche,  Mr.  Alexander,  Messrs.  J.  and  M.  Beresford,  Mr.  Ogle,  Mr. 
Toler,  and  Mr.  Annesley. 

The  most  contentious  topic  in  the  debate  was  an  expression  which  fell  from  Mr. 
Fletcher  in  the  course  of  his  speech,  in  which  he  said,  that  if  coercive  measures  were 
to  be  pursued,  the  whole  country  must  be  coerced,  for  the  spirit  of  insurrection  had 
pervaded  every  part  of  it. 

Mr.  M.  Beresford  ordered  the  clerk  to  take  down  these  words,  and  the  gallery  was 
instantly  cleared.  When  strangers  were  again  admitted,  the  debate  on  the  address 
still  continued,  and  in  the  course  of  it  Mr.  J.  C.  Beresford  thought  himself  called 
on  to  defend  the  Secret  Committee  against  an  assertion  which  had  fallen  from  Mr. 
Fletcher  in  the  course  of  his  speech.  The  assertion  was  in  substance  that  he  feared 
the  people  would  be  led  to  look  on  the  report  of  the  committee  as  fabricated  rather 
to  justify  the  past  measures  of  Government,  than  to  state  facts ! 

Mr.  Fletcher  contended  that  he  had  a right  to  animadvert  on  the  report,  but  dis- 
claimed any  design  of  imputing  anything  unfair  to  the  members  of  that  committee 
individually. 

In  the  course  of  the  altercation  which  followed  on  this  subject,  Mr.  Toler  threat- 
ened, and  actually  did  move  an  abstract  resolution,  declaring  that  the  imputation 
conveyed  in  these  words  (of  Mr.  Fletcher)  was  an  unfounded  calumny  on  the  re- 
port. He  was  at  length,  however  persuaded  to  withdraw  his  motion.  The  house 
then  divided  on  Mr.  Smith’s  amendment  which  was  lost  without  a division. 

PARLIAMENTARY  REFORM. 

Mr.  W.  Ponsonby,  in  a short  prefatory  speech,  proposed  his  Resolutions  on  Par- 
liamentary Reform.  Before  he  moved  any  of  them  specifically,  he  read  them  all  to 
the  house.  They  are  in  substance  as  follow  : — 

“ Resolved,  that  it  is  indispensably  necessary  to  a fundamental  reform  of  the  rep- 
resentation, that  all  disabilities  on  account  of  religion  be  forever  abolished,  and 


ft 


JOHN  P.  CURRAN. 


387 


out  asperity  — I speak  without  resentment;  I speak,  perhaps,  my  delusion,  but  it 
is  my  heart-felt  conviction  — I speak  my  apprehension  for  the  immediate  state  of 
our  liberty,  and  for  the  ultimate  state  of  the  empire.  I see,  or  I imagine  I see,  in 
this  system,  everything  which  is  dangerous  to  both.  I hope  I am  mistaken  — at 
least,  I hope  I exaggerate ; possibly  I may.  If  so,  I shall  acknowledge  my  error 
with  more  satisfaction  than  is  usual  in  the  acknowledgment  of  error.  I cannot,  how- 
ever, banish  from  my  memory  the  lesson  of  the  American  war;  and  yet  at  that  time 
the  English  government  was  at  the  head  of  Europe,  and  was  possessed  of  resources 
comparatively  unbroken.  If  that  lesson  has  no  effect  on  ministers,  surely  I can 
suggest  nothing  that  will.  We  have  offered  you  our  measure  — you  will  reject  it ; 
we  deprecate  yours  — you  will  persevere.  Having  no  hopes  left  to  persuade  or  dis- 
suade, and  having  discharged  our  duty,  we  shall  trouble  you  no  more,  and,  AFTER 
THIS  DAY,  SHALL  NOT  ATTEND  THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS ! — Debates , 
Yol.  XVII.,  pp.  569-70. 

The  question  being  put  on  the  adjournment  it  was  carried:  — for  it,  170;  against 
it,  30. 

The  opposition  ceased  to  attend,  and  the  parliament,  after  a few  sittings,  was 
adjourned,  in  a speech  from  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  of  unusual  length,  on  the  3rd  of 
July,  1797.  Thus,  in  the  twilight  of  his  country,  ended  Curran’s  parliamentary 
career;  but  in  the  awful  night  which  followed,  he  was  a beacon. 


388 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


For  Peter  Finnerty,  Publisher  of  " The  Press.” 


[LIBEL.  ] 


December  22nd,  1797. 

The  Government  and  the  United  Irishmen  were  now  face  to  face,  the  former  armed 
with  a full  code  of  coercion,  and  a large  army  and  unscrupulous  agents  to  support 
it;  — the  latter  with  a good  cause,  the  organization  given  by  Tone,  and  the  prospect 
of  French  aid.  Each  party  tried  to  strengthen  itself  by  conciliation  and  intimida- 
tion. Among  the  government  instruments  were  spies  (such  as  Maguane  and  others, 
chronicled  in  Dr.  Madden’s  work),  “the  battalion  of  testimony”  (Bird,  Newell, 
O’Brien,  &c.),  free  quarters,  prosecutions,  bribery,  patronage  and  calumny. 

One  of  the  best  auxiliaries  summoned  by  the  United  Irishmen  was  “ The  Press” 
uewspaper. 

The  first  number  of  it  was  published  in  Dublin,  on  Thursday,  the  28th  of  Septem- 
ber, 1797,  and  was  thence  continued  on  Tuesdays,  Thursdays  and  Saturdays,  until 
Tuesday,  the  13th  of  March,  1798,  when  the  69th  and  last  number  was  seized  by  the 
government.  It  was  not,  like  the  “ Northern  Star,”  a chronicle  of  French  politics. 
It  was  a true  propagandist  organ  of  Liberal  and  National  opinions,  filled  with 
essays,  letters  and  addresses  of  great  ability.  Arthur  O’Connor  mainly  originated 
it,  and  he,  Thomas  Emmet,  Drennan,  Sampson,  &c.,  wrote  it. 

Government  naturally  longed  to  crush  such  a paper,  as  it  had  done  the  “ Northern 
Star,”  but  raw  force  was  premature  for  Dublin,  so  they  waited  for  a libel,  and,  as 
they  gave  plenty  of  provocation,  they  waited  not  long.  They  found  one,  which  irri- 
tated them  deeply,  while  it  gave  them  a good  opening,  in  a letter  published  on 
Thursday,  the  26th  of  October,  1797,  addressed  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  signed 
“ Marcus.”  Most  of  the  letter  is  set  out  in  the  indictment ; so  are  the  legal  facts 
which  were  the  text  of  it,  but  it  is  right  to  say  something  more  of  them. 

William  Orr  was  a Presbyterian  farmer,  resident  at  Farranshane,  in  the  County 
of  Antrim  — a man  of  pious,  gentle  and  gallant  character ; a tall,  athletic  and  hearty 
fellow,  too,  and  popular  exceedingly.  He  was  arrested  in  1796,  under  the  Insurrec- 
tion Act  (passed  in  the  February  of  that  year),  for  having,  in  April,  1796,  admin- 
istered the  United  Irish  oath  to  Hugh  Wheatly,  a private  in  the  Fifeshire  Fencibles. 
He  was  indicted  at  Carrickfergus,  on  the  17th  of  April,  1797,  and  tried  on  Saturday, 
16th  of  September,  1797,  before  Chief  Baron  Lord  Yelverton.  The  chief  witness 
was  Wheatly,  who  deposed  that  Orr  acted  as  chairman  or  secretary  of  a Baronial 
Committee  in  Antrim,  where  Wheatly  was  induced  to  go,  and  was  there  forced  to 


RICHARD  LA  LOR  SHIET. 


SPEECHES. 

BY 

Richard  Lalor  Sheil 


[4211. 


424 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


administration.  Mr.  O’Connell  has  reason  to  rejoice  at  his  failure 
in  carrying  this  proposition  ; for  if  he  had  succeeded,  no  ground  for 
opposing  the  return  of  Mr.  Vesey  Fitzgerald  would  have  existed. 

The  promotion  of  that  gentleman  to  a seat  in  the  cabinet  created  a 
vacancy  in  the  representation  of  the  county  of  Clare  ; and  an  oppor- 
tunity was  afforded  the  Roman  Catholic  body  of  proving  that  the 
resolution  which  had  been  passed  against  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
government  was  not  an  idle  vaunt,  but  that  it  could  be  carried  in  a 
striking  instance  into  effect.  It  was  determined  that  all  the  power 
of  the  people  should  be  put  forth.  The  Association  looked  round 
for  a candidate,  and  without  having  previously  consulted  him, 
selected  Major  M’Namara.  Ho  is  a Protestant  in  religion,  a Catho- 
de in  politics,  and  a Milesian  in  descent.  lie  was  called  upon  to 
stand.  Some  days  elapsed  and  no  answer  was  returned  by  him. 
The  public  mind  was  thrown  into  suspense,  and  various  conjectures 
went  abroad  as  to  the  cause  of  this  singular  omission.  Some  alleged 
that  he  was  gone  to  an  island  off  the  coast  of  Clare,  where  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  Association  had  not  reached  him  ; while  others  sug- 
gested  that  he  was  only  waiting  until  the  clergy  of  the  county  should 
declare  themselves  more  unequivocally  favorable  to  him.  The  latter, 
it  was  said,  had  evinced  much  apathy,  and  it  was  rumored  that  Dean 
O’Shaughnessy,  who  is  a distant  relative  of  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  had  inti- 
mated a determination  not  to  support  any  anti-ministerial  candidate. 
The  major's  silence,  and  the  doubts  which  were  entertained  with 
regard  to  the  allegiance  of  the  priests,  created  a sort  of  panic  at  the 
Association.  A meeting  was. called,  and  various  opinions  were 
delivered  as  to  the  propriety  of  engaging  in  a contest,  the  issue  of 
which  was  considered  exceedingly  doubtful,  and  in  which,  failure 
would  be  attended  with  such  disastrous  consequences.  Mr.  O'Con- 
nell himself  did  not  appear  exceedingly  sanguine : and  Mr.  Purcell 
O’Gorman,  a native  of  Clai'e,  and  who  had  a minute  knowledge  of 
the  feelings  of  the  people,  expressed  apprehensions.  There  were, 
however,  two  gentlemen  (O'Gorman  Mahon  and  Mr.  Steele),  who 
strongly  insisted  that  the  people  might  be  roused,  and  that  the 
priests  were  not  as  lukewarm  as  was  imagined.  Upon  the  zeal  of 
Dean  O’Shaughnessy,  however,  a good  deal  of  question  was  thrown. 
By  a singular  coincidence,  just  as  his  name  was  uttered,  a gentleman 
entered,  who,  but  for  the  peculiar  locality,  might  have  been  readily 


RICHARD  LALOR  SIIEIL. 


457 


Repeal  of  the  Union, 

Speech  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  the  25th  of  April,  1834. 


BHE  speech  just  spoken  by  the  member  for  the  county  of  Wex- 
ford has  been  received  with  acclamations,  and  if  it  were  less 
p?  able,  the  acclamation  would  not,  perhaps,  have  been  less  en- 
1 thusiastic,  or  less  loud.  Fortunate  advocate,  whose  success 
depends  as  much  at  least  on  tbe  predilections  of  the  tribunal,  as  upon 
the  merits  of  the  cause  ! I have  heard  my  honorable  friend  when  he 
exhibited  fully  as  much  eloquence  as  upon  this  occasion,  but  never 
saw  him  received  with  such  cordiality  at  the  outset,  or  such  rapture 
at  the  termination  of  any  of  his  former  harangues.  With  what  clear- 
ness of  exposition,  with  what  irresistible  force,  for  example,  did  he 
demand  justice  for  the  Irish  people  after  the  massacre  of  Newtown- 
barry  ? He  presented  a picture  of  that  atrocious  transaction,  com- 
pared to  which,  his  accounts  of  the  fatal  effects  of  agitation  are  weak 
and  inefficient  indeed.  The  incidents  which  he  described,  and  the 
picturesque  diction  in  which  his  narrative  was  conveyed,  ought  to 
have  produced  a great  impression  upon  his  auditory,  yet  how  coldly 
did  all  that  he  then  urged  fall  upon  his  hearers.  You  were  then 
frigid  and  apathetic  ; you  are  now,  in  the  highest  degree,  susceptible 
and  alive  to  the  accomplishments  of  the  member  for  the  county  of 
Wexford.  My  honorable  friend  is  now  a devoted  and  unqualified 
antagonist  of  repeal.  Was  it  always  thus?  Did  he  not  say — that 
if  justice  was  not  done  to  Ireland  on  the  tithe  question,  he  should, 
however  reluctantly,  become  an  advocate  for  repeal  ? 

Mr.  Lambert  — I do  not  recollect  having  ever  said  so. 

Mr.  Sheil  — At  all  events,  he  declared  that  the  denial  of  justice 
with  respect  to  the  Irish  Church,  would  have  the  effect  of  inducing 
the  great  mass  of  the  population  to  embrace  repeal.  Whether  he 


458  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

spoke  of  himself,  or  of  the  country,  putting  personal  considerations 
out  of  view,  the  inference  is  nearly  the  same.  He  expressed  a de- 
sire when  he  began,  that  the  member  for  Dublin  should  be  in  attend- 
ance while  he  reviewed  his  conduct.  The  wish  was  gratified.  The 
member  for  Dublin  entered  the  house  (which  the  honorable  membei 
for  the  county  of  Wexford  never  would  have  entered  but  for  the 
member  for  Dublin),  and  I own  that  I did  not  think  that  he  had  any 
cause  to  wince  under  the  chastisement  applied  to  him  by  the  hon. 
member.  But  how,  after  all,  are  the  real  merits  of  this  great  question 
affected  by  these  resentful  references  to  incidents  which  have  taken 
place  outside  this  house  ? Is  this  the  proper  field  for  encounter  be- 
tween two  honorable  gentlemen  ? The  member  for  the  county  of 
Wexford  may  have  been  wronged  ; — language  may  have  been  applied 
to  him  by  the  member  for  Dublin  with  regard  to  his  conduct  on  the 
Coercion  Bill,  which  deserves  condemnation.  I regret  it ; but  let 
him  bear  in  mind  that  the  obligation  conferred  upon  him  by  the 
member  for  Dublin,  ought  to  outweigh  every  injury.  Though  he 
has  been  smitten  in  the  face,  let  him  remember  that  the  hand  that 
struck  him,  struck  his  fetters  off.  The  honorable  member  for  Wex- 
ford has  adverted  to  the  remuneration,  which  the  people  of  Ireland 
have  bestowed  upon  the  member  for  Dublin.  He  should  have  con- 
sidered the  extent  of  the  service,  before  he  derided  the  reward.  For 
thirty  years  the  member  for  Dublin  has  toiled  in  the  cause  of  Ire- 
land ; he  has  been  mainly  instrumental  in  achieving  the  liberty  of 
his  fellow-countrymen  ; he  has  relinquished  great  emoluments  by  ab- 
stracting himself  from  his  profession,  and  by  making  a dedication  of 
his  faculties  to  the  interests  of  his  country  : — Ireland  felt  that  it  be- 
hove her  to  prove  her  gratitude  for  that  freedom,  which  is  above  all 
price. 

I turn  from  these  painful  topics  to  the  subject  presented  to  our 
deliberation.  Not  a word  has  yet  been  said  upon  the  amendment. 

Many  may  conceive  that  the  original  proposition  ought  to  be  re- 
jected, and  yet  will,  I hope,  pause  before  they  adopt  the  sentiments 
contained  in  the  address.  The  question  before  the  house  is,  not 
merely  whether  a committee  should  be  granted  for  the  purpose  of 
investigating  a question  on  which  the  Secretary  for  the  Treasury 
thought  it  not  inexpedient  to  deliver  an  harangue,  of  which  the 
length  must  be  admitted  to  be  unsurpassed,  but  whether  we  shall 


RICHARD  LALOR  SHELL  479 


Orange  Lodges, 

Speech  in  the  House  of  Commons,  August  11,  1835. 


T is  remarkable  that  the  gallant  colonel  (Verner),  the  Deputy 
Grand  Master  of  Ireland  and  Viceroy  to  the  Duke  of  Cumber- 
fV1  berlaud,  has  not  stated  that  he  was  ignorant  of  the  existence  of 
i Orange  lodges  in  the  army.  This  omission  is  the  moie  deserv 
ing  of  notice,  because  he  was  colonel  of  the  7th  dragoons — because 
he  was  examined  twice  before  the  committee  — and  because  the  sev- 
eral other  functionaries  of  the  Orange  body  have  declared  their  uttei 
ignorance  of  that  which  they  ought  to  have  known  so  well.  Inde- 
pendently of  these  considerations,  it  appears  by  a report  of  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  English  Grand  Lodge,  that  the  gallant  colonel  was 
present  when  (the  Duke  of  Cumberland  being  in  the  chair)  a reso- 
lution respecting  the  establishment  of  Orange  lodges  in  the  army  was 
moved.  Is  it  true  that  he  was  present? 

Colonel  Verner.  — I was  never  asked,  in  the  committee,  whethei 
I knew  of  the  existence  of  Orange  lodges  in  the  army.  I now  declare 
that  I was  utterly  ignorant  of  the  fact ; and  I do  not  remember 
whether  I was  or  was  not  present  when  the  resolution,  to  which  the 
honorable  gentleman  adverts,  was  carried  in  the  English  Grand- 
Lodge. 

Mr.  Sheil.  — How  far  the  answer  fits  the  question  let  the  house 
judge.  It  appears  that  the  gallant  colonel  did  attend  the  English 
Grand  Lodge,  on  what  occasion  he  does  not  distinctly  recollect  — 
his  memory  is  misty  — but  it  would  be  important  that  he  should  state 
how  far  the  impression  is  correct,  that  Orange  lodges  have  been 
established  in  the  army  with  the  sanction  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
and  by  virtue  of  resolutions,  passed  when  the  Orange  Grand  Lodge 
was  graced  by  the  presence  of  his  Royal  Highness  ! I turn  from  the 


480  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

gallant  colonel  to  the  general  question.  At  the  commencement  of 
the  session  I charged  tiie  Conservative  government  with  having 
advanced  Orangemen  to  places  of  high  station,  and  having  given  to 
Orange  lodges  answers  amounting  to  a recognition  of  their  public 
usefulness.  This  motion  was  not  unattended  with  a salutary  effect ; 
immediately  after  the  member,  for  Kilkenny,*  to  whom  the  country 
is  greatly  indebted  for  the  disclosures  which  he  has  been  instrumental 
in  producing,  moved  the  appointment  of  the  committee.  On  that 
committee  the  leading  functionaries  of  the  Orange  body  were  placed. 
And  yet  it  is  said  that  the  committee  was  packed  ; but  let  us  see  who 
were  the  members  of  it:  — the  honorable  members  for  Sligo  and 
for  Cavan  were  upon  it;  and  there  were  also  Mr.  Jackson,  Mr. 
Wilson  Patten  — I suppose  that  he  is  a Conservative  — Colonel 
Wood,  Lord  Castlereagh,  Mr.  Nicholl,  Sir  James  Graham — (I  really 
do  not  know  w7ith  which  party  to  class  him)  — Colonel  Conolly  and 
Colonel  Perceval.  I do  not  think  that  this  selection  can  be  said 
to  be  an  unfair  one,  but  it  is  alleged  that  the  mode  in  which  the 
witnesses  were  examined  was  unjust.  The  Grand  Master,  and  the 
Grand  Treasurer,  and  the  Grand  Secretary  were  examined — (they 
are  all  Grand)  — the  order  of  investigation  was  altogether  inverted, 
and  the  Orange  party  were  allowed  to  open  the  case  themselves,  and 
for  a number  of  days  none  but  Orange  witnesses  were  examined. 
Colonel  Verner  was  twice  examined  — first  on  the  7th  of  April,  1835, 
.and  again  on  the  9th  of  April.  Then  came  the  Reverend  Mortimer 
O’Sullivan  — certainly  a very  competent  witness  to  give  evidence 
with  respect  to  both  religions,  for  with  regard  to  one  he  could  in- 
dulge in  the  "Pleasures  of  Memory,”  and  to  the  other,  he,  doubtless, 
looked  with  the  "Pleasures  of  Hope;”  Mr.  M.  O'Sullivan,  the 
Grand  Chaplain,  was  produced,  and  was  examined  on  the  13th  of 
April,  on  the  21st  and  26th  of  May,  and  again  on  the  27th  of  May : 
so  many  days  expended  upon  theology  and  the  Reverend  Mortimer 
O’Sullivan.  Then  came  Mr.  Swan,  the  Deputy  Grand  Secretary ; 
next  came  Mr.  Stewart  Blacker,  the  Assistant  Grand  Treasurer,  who 
was  examined  on  the  8th,  10th,  12th,  and  13th,  of  June  ; next  Mr.  W. 
Ward,  the  solicitor  of  the  Orange  body,  who  was  produced  to  show 
that  they  never  in  any  wav  interfered  with  the  administration  of  jus- 
tice ; then  again,  on  the  15th  of  June  came  Mr.  Mortimer  O’Sullivan 

* Mr.  Finn. 


RICHARD  LALOR  SIIEIb.  487 


Irish  Municipal  Bill, 

Speech  in  the  House  of  Commons,  February  22,  1837. 


|p|||HE  right  honorable  baronet  (Sir  James  Graham)  began  the 
||||l  speech,  in  many  particulars  remarkable,  which  he  has  just 
concluded  amidst  the  applauses  of  those,  whose  approbation, 
H at  one  period  of  his  political  life,  he  would  have  blushed  to 
incur,  by  intimating  that  he  was  regarded  as  a " bigot  ” on  this  side 
of  the  house.  Whether  he  deserves  the  appellation  by  which  he 
has  informed  us  that  he  is  designated,  his  speech  to-night  affords 
some  means  of  determining.  I will  not  call  him  a bigot,  I am  not 
disposed  to  use  an  expression  in  any  degree  offensive  to  the  right 
honorable  baronet,  but  I will  presume  to  call  him  a convert,  who 
exhibits  all  the  zeal  for  which  conversion  is  proverbially  conspicuous. 
Of  that  zeal  we  have  manifestations  in  his  references  to  pamphlets 
about  Spain,  in  his  allusions  to  the  mother  of  Cabrera,  in  his  remarks 
on  the  Spanish  clergy,  and  the  practice  of  confession  in  the  Catholic 
Church.  I own  that,  when  he  takes  in  such  bad  part  the  strong 
expressions  employed  in  reference  to  the  Irish  Church  (expressions 
employed  by  Protestants,  and  not  by  Roman  Catholics),  I am  sur- 
prised that  he  should  not  himself  abstain  from  observations  offensive 
to  the  religious  feelings  of  Roman  Catholic  members  of  this  house. 
The  right  honorable  baronet  has  done  me  the  honor  to  produce  an 
extract  from  a speech  of  mine,  delivered  nearly  two  years  ago  at  the 
Coburg  Gardens  ; and  at  the  same  time  expressed  himself  in  terms 
of  praise  of  the  humble  individual  who  now  addresses  you.  I can 
assure  the  right  honorable  baronet  that  I feel  at  least  as  much  plea- 
sure in  listening  to  him,  as  he  has  the  goodness  to  say  that  he 
derives  from  hearing  me.  He  has  many  of  the  accomplishments 


488 


TREASURE  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


attributed  by  Milton  to  a distinguished  speaker  in  a celebrated  coun- 
cil. lie  is  "in  act  most  graceful  and  humane,  his  tongue  drops 
manna.”  I cannot  but  feel  pride  that  he  should  entertain  so  high  an 
opinion  of  me,  as  to  induce  him  to  peruse  and  collect  all  that  I say 
even  beyond  these  walls.  He  has  spent  the  recess,  it  appears,  in 
the  diligent  selection  of  such  passages  as  he  has  read  to-night,  and 
which  I little  thought,  when  they  were  uttered,  that  the  right  honor- 
able baronet  would  think  worthy  of  his  comments.  However,  he 
owes  me  the  return  of  an  obligation.  The  last  time  I spoke  in  this 
house,  I referred  to  a celebrated  speech  of  his  at  Cockermouth,  in 
which  he  pronounced  an  eloquent  invective  against  "a  recreant 
Whig ; ” and  as  he  found  that  I was  a diligent  student  of  those 
models  of  eloquence  which  the  right  honorable  baronet  used  formerly 
to  supply,  in  advocating  the  popular  rights,  he  thought  himself 
bound,  I suppose,  to  repay  me  by  the  citation,  which  has,  I believe, 
produced  less  effect  than  he  had  anticipated.  The  right  honorable 
baronet  also  adverted  to  what  he  calls  " the  Lichfield  House  com- 
pact.” It  is  not  worth  while  to  go  over  the  same  ground,  after  I 
have  already  proved,  by  reading  in  the  house  the  speech  which  has 
been  the  subject  of  so  much  remark  — how  much  I have  been  mis- 
represented; I never  said  that  there  was  a "compact;”  I did  say, 
and  I repeat  it,  that  there  was  "a  compact  alliance.”  Was  that  the 
first  occasion  on  which  an  alliance  was  entered  into  ? W as  Lichfield 
House  the  only  spot  ever  dedicated  to  political  reconciliations  ? Has 
the  right  honorable  baronet  forgotten,  or  has  the  noble  lord  (Stanley) 
who  sits  beside  him,  succeeded  in  dismissing  from  his  recollection, 
a meeting  at  Brookes’s  Club,  at  which  the  Irish  and  English  reform- 
ers assembled,  and,  in  the  emei-gency  which  had  taken  place,  agreed 
to  relinquish  their  differences  and  make  a united  stand  against  the 
common  foe?  Does  the  noble  lord  forget  an  admirable  speech  (it 
was  the  best  post-prandial  oration  it  was  ever  my  good  fortune  to 
have  heard)  delivered  by  a right  honorable  gentleman  who  was  not 
then  a noble  lord,  and  was  accompanied  by  a vehemence  of  gesture 
and  a force  of  intonation  not  a little  illustrative  of  the  emotions  of 
the  orator,  on  his  anticipated  ejectment  from  office?  That  eloquent 
individual,  whom  I now  see  on  the  Tory  side  of  the  house,  got  up  on 
a table,  and  with  vehement  and  almost  appalling  gesture,  pronounced 
an  invective  against  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  to  which,  in  the 


The  Catholics  of  Ireland, 

Speech  at  Penenden  Heath,  24th  October,  1828. 


no  man  believe  that  I have  come  here,  in  order  that  I might 
iKa|  enter  the  lists  of  religious  controversy  and  engage  with  any 
2?  of  you  in  a scholastic  disputation.  In  the  year  1828,  the 
® Real  Presence  does  not  afford  an  appropriate  subject  for 
debate,  and  it  is  not  by  the  shades  of  a mystery  that  the  rights  of  a 
British  citizen  are  to  be  determined.  I do  not  know  whether  there 
are  many  here  by  whom  I am  regarded  as  an  idolater,  because  I con- 
scientiously adhere  to  the  faith  of  your  forefathers,  and  profess  the 
doctrine  in  which  I was  born  and  bred  ; but  if  I am  so  accounted  by 
you,  you  ought  not  to  inflict  a civil  deprivation  upon  the  accident  of 
the  cradle.  You  ought  not  to  punish  me  for  that  for  which  I am  not 
in  reality  to  blame.  If  you  do,  you  will  make  the  misfortune  of  the 
Catholic  the  fault  of  the  Protestant,  and  by  inflicting  a wrong  upon 
my  religion,  cast  a discredit  upon  your  own.  I am  not  the  worse 
subject  of  my  king,  and  the  worse  citizen  of  my  country,  because  I 
concur  in  the  belief  of  the  great  majority  of  the  Christian  world ; 
and  I will  venture  to  add,  with  the  frankness  and  something  of  tjie 
bluntness  by  which  Englishmen  are  considered  to  be  characterised, 
that  if  I am  an  idolater,  I have  a right  to  be  one,  if  I choose ; my 
idolatry  is  a branch  of  my  prerogative,  and  is  no  business  of  yours. 
But  you  have  been  told  by  Lord  Winchelsea  that  the  Catholic  reli- 
gion is  the  adversary  of  freedom.  It  may  occur  to  you,  perhaps, 
that  his  lordship  affords  a proof  in  his  own  person,  that  a passion  for 
Protestantism  and  a love  of  liberty  are  not  inseparably  associated ; 
but  without  instituting  too  minute  or  embarrassing  an  inquiry  into 
the  services  to  freedom,  which  in  the  course  of  his  political  life  have 
been  conferred  by  my  Lord  Winchelsea,  and  putting  aside  all  per- 


506 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


son:il  considerations  connected  with  the  accuser,  let  me  proceed  to 
the  accusation.  Calumniators  of  Catholicism,  have  you  read  the 
history  of  your  country?  Of  the  charges  against  the  religion  of 
Ireland,  the  annals  of  England  afTord  the  confutation.  The  body  of 
your  common  laws  was  given  by  the  Catholic  Alfred.  He  gave  you 
your  judges,  your  magistrates,  your  high  sheriffs — (you,  sir,  hold 
your  office,  and  have  called  this  great  ‘assembly,  by  virtue  of  his 
institutions)  — your  courts  of  justice,  your  elective  system,  and,  the 
great  bulwark  of  your  liberties,  the  trial  by  jury.  When  English- 
men peruse  the  chronicles  of  their  glory,  their  hearts  beat  high  with 
exultation,  their  emotions  are  profoundly  stirred,  and  their  souls  are 
ardently  expanded.  Where  is  the  English  boy,  who  reads  the  story 
of  his  great  island,  whose  pulse  does  not  beat  at  the  name  of  Runne- 
mede,  and  whose  nature  is  not  deeply  thrilled  at  the  contemplation 
of  that  great  incident,  when  the  mitred  Langton,  with  his  uplifted 
crosier,  confronted  the  tyrant,  whose  sceptre  shook  in  his  trembling  . 
hand,  and  extorted  what  you  have  so  justly  called  the  Great,  and 
what,  I trust  in  God,  you  will  have  cause  to  designate  as  your  ever- 
lasting Charter?  It  was  by  a Catholic  Pontiff  that  the  foundation- 
stone  in  the  temple  of  liberty  was  laid  ; and  it  was  at  the  altars  of 
that  religion,  which  you  are  accustomed  to  consider  as  the  handmaid 
of  oppression,  that  the  architects  of  the  constitution  knelt  down. 
Who  conferred  upon  the  people  the  right  of  self-taxation,  and  fixed, 
if  he  did  not  create,  the  representation  of  the  people?  The  Catholic 
Edward  the  First ; while,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Third,  perfec- 
tion wras  given  to  the  representative  system,  parliaments  were 
annually  called,  and  the  statute  against  constructive  treason  was 
enacted.  It  is  false,  foully,  infamously  false,  that  the  Catholic  reli- 
gion, the  religion  of  j'our  forefathers,  the  religion  of  seven  millions 
of  your  fellow-subjects,  has  been  the  auxiliary  of  debasement,  and 
that  to  its  influences  the  suppression  of  British  freedom  can,  in  a 
single  instance,  be  referred.  I am  loath  to  say  that  which  can  give 
you  cause  to  take  oflenee  ; but  when  the  faith  of  my  country  is  made 
the  object  of  imputation,  I cannot  help,  I cannot  refrain,  from  break- 
ing into  a retaliatory  interrogation,  and  from  asking  whether  the 
overthrow7  of  the  old  religion  of  England  was  not  effected  by  a 
tyrant,  writh  a hand  of  iron  and  a heart  of  stone  ; whether  Henry 
did  not  trample  upon  freedom,  while  upon  Catholicism  he  set  his 


RICHARD  LALOR  SIIEIL. 


517 


Speech  in  Reply  to  Mr.  M’Clintock. 


Mr.  M’Clintock,  a Protestant  gentleman  of  rank  and  fortune  in  the  county  of 
Louth,  having  attended  a Roman  Catholic  Meeting,  held  in  the  chapel  of  Dundalk, 
and  delivered  a speech  containing  strictures  on  the  Catholic  religion. 


!|||jw|jR.  SHELL  rose  immediately  after  Mr.  M’Clintock  had  con- 
eluded  and  said,  The  speech  of  Mr.  M’Clintock  (and  a more 
(|JrJ)  singular  exhibition  of  gratuitous  eloquence  I have  never 
.\w.*.  heard)  calls  for  a prompt  and  immediate  expression  of 

t gratitude.  He  has  had  the  goodness  to  advise  us  (for  he 

has  our  interests  at  heart)  to  depute  certain  emissaries  from  the 
new  Order  of  Liberators  to  his  Holiness  at  Rome,  for  the  purpose 
of  procuring  a repeal  of  certain  obnoxious  canons  of  the  Council  of 
Lateran . If  Mr.  M’Clintock  had  not  assured  us  that  he  was  seri- 
ous, and  was  not  actuated  by  an  anxiety  to  throw  ridicule  upon  the 
religion  and  proceedings  of  those  whom  he  has  taken  under  his  spir- 
itual tutelage,  I should  have  been  disposed  to  consider  him  an  insid- 
ious fanatic,  who,  under  the  hypocritical  pretence  of  giving  us  a 
salutary  admonition,  had  come  here  with  no  other  end  than  to  fling 
vilification  upon  our  creed,  and  to  throw  contumely  upon  the  per- 
sons who  take  the  most  active  part  in  the  conduct  of  our  cause. 
But  knowing  him  to  be  a person  of  high  rank  and  large  fortune, 
and  believing  him  to  possess  the  feelings  as  well  as  the  station  of  a 
gentleman,  I am  willing  to  acquit  him  of  any  such  unworthy  pur- 
pose, and  do  not  believe  that  his  object  in  addressing  us,  was  to 
offer  a deliberate  and  premeditated  insult.  He  did  not,  I am  sure 
(for  it  would  be  inconsistent  with  the  character  which  I have  ascribed 
to  him)  enter  this  meeting  for  the  purpose  of  venting  his  bile  in  our 
faces,  and  voiding  upon  his  auditory  the  foul  calumnies  against  the 
religion  of  his  countrymen,  which  furnish  the  ordinary  materials  of 

\ 


518  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

rhetoric  in  the  Bible  Societies,  of  which  he  is  so  renowned  a mem- 
ber. He  did  not  come  hcx’e  to  talk  of  the  Pope’s  golden  stirrups  to 
a mass  of  ignorant  and  unenlightened  people,  and  to  turn  their  belief 
into  ridicule  with  his  lugubrious  derision.  The  topics  which  he 
selected  were,  indeed,  singularly  chosen,  and  when  he  talked  of  the 
Order  of  Liberators,  I was  disposed  to  take  him  for  a wag.  — But 
I raised  my  eyes  and  looked  him  in  the  face,  and  perceiving  a per- 
son, whose  countenance  would  furnish  Cruikshank  with  a frontis- 
piece to  the  Spiritual  Quixote,  I at  once  acquitted  him  of  all 
propensities  to  humour,  and  could  not  bring  myself  to  believe  it 
possible  that  Mr.  M’Clintock  had  ever  intended  to  be  droll.  At  one 
moment  I confess  I was  in  pain  for  him,  for  I was  apprehensive 
that  the  language  in  which  he  expressed  himself  in  regard  to  our 
clergy,  and  the  forms  and  habitudes  of  Popery,  would  be  apt  to 
excite  the  indignation  of  a portion  of  this  immense  auditory,  but 
the  spirit  of  courtesy  prevailed  over  the  feelings  of  the  people,  and 
so  far  from  having  been  treated  with  disrespect,  he  was  listened  to 
with  more  than  ordinary  indulgence.  He  excited  less  of  our  anger 
than  of  our  commiseration.  I am  upon  this  account  rejoiced  that 
he  should  have  undertaken  an  exploit  of  this  kind.  We  have  given 
him  evidence,  at  all  events,  that  however  intolerant  the  theory  of 
our  religion  may  appear  to  him,  Ave  are  practically  forbearing  and 
indulgent.  "We  allowed  him  to  inveigh  against  the  bridle  and  sad- 
dle of  the  Pope,  without  a remonstrance ; Ave  permitted  him  to 
indulge  in  his  dismal  merriment,  and  his  melancholy  ridicule,  Avith- 
out  a murmur ; he  will  therefore  have  derived  a useful  lesson  from 
his  experiment  upon  the  public  patience,  and  when  he  shall  recount 
to  his  confederates  of  the  Bible  Society  his  achievements  amongst 
us,  he  will  have  an  opportunity  of  telling  them  that  Ave  are  far  more 
tolerant  of  a difference  of  opinion  than  the  pious  auditory  W'hich  Mr. 
M'Clintock  is  in  the  habit  of  addressing.  I have  occasionally 
attended  meetings  of  the  Bible  Society,  and  observed  that  Avhoever 
ventured  to  remonstrate  against  the  use  of  the  Apocalypse  as  a 
Spelling  Book,  incurred  the  indignation  of  the  assembly.  I remem- 
ber to  have  heard  it  suggested,  that  the  amatory  pictures  which  are 
offered  to  the  imagination  in  the  Canticle  of  Canticles,  were  not 
exactly  fitted  to  the  private  meditation  of  young  ladies,  when  the 
countenances  of  the  fair  auditors  immediately  assumed  an  expression 


RICHARD  LALOR  SHEIL.  529 


Speech  on  the  Duke  of  York, 


■ HAVE  waited  until  the  chair  had  been  left,  and  the  meeting  of 
the  Association  had  terminated,  in  order  to  introduce  a subject 
which,  as  it  is  of  a purely  political  nature,  I refrained  from 
l mentioning  during  the  discussions  of  the  Association,  lest  it 
should  give  them  a character  of  illegality,  and  expose  me  to  the 
imputation  of  having  violated  the  law.  I refer  to  the  recent  obser- 
vations which  have  been  made  in  the  London  papers  upon  the 
report  of  a speech  of  mine  at  a public  dinuer.  I hope  that  I shall 
not  be  considered  guilty  of  an  overweening  egotism,  in  drawing  the 
attention  of  the  individuals  who  happen  to  be  assembled  here  to 
what  may  appear  to  relate  to  myself.  But  the  topics  on  which  I 
mean  to  address  you  are  of  public  as  well  as  of  personal  interest. 
The  truculent  jocularity  and  the  spirit  of  savage  jest  which  have 
been  ascribed  to  me,  in  expatiating  on  the  infirmities  of  an  illus- 
trious person,  have  been  regarded  as  characteristic  of  the  moral 
habitudes  of  the  body  to  which  I belong.  Thus,  my  vindication 
(for  I do  not  rise  to  make  an  apology)  extends  beyond  myself.  Yet 
let  me  be  permitted  to  suggest,  that  it  is  most  unfair  to  impute  to  a 
whole  people  the  feelings  or  the  sentiments  of  any  single  man.  The 
Catholics  of  Ireland  have  been  repeatedly  held  responsible  for  the 
unauthorised  and  unsanctioned  language  of  individuals.  Every 
ardent  expression,  every  word  that  overflows  with  gall,  every  phrase 
uttered  in  the  suddenness  of  unpremeditated  emotion,  are  converted 
into  charges  against  seven  millions  of  the  Irish  people.  It  is  deal- 
ing rather  hardly  with  us,  to  make  a loose  after-dinner  speech,  (the 
mere  bubble  of  the  mind,)  thrown  off  in  the  heedlessness  of  con- 
viviality, a matter  of  serious  accusation  against  a whole  community. 
I am  not  endeavoring  to  excuse  myself  upon  any  such  plea  as  the 
Bishop  of  Kilmore  might  resort  to,  in  extenuating  his  late  oration  in 


530 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Cavan ; on  the  contrary,  I am  prepared  to  show  the  circumstances 
which,  in  my  mind,  gave  warrant  to  what  I said.  But  I deprecat* 
the  notion  that  the  language  employed  either  by  myself  or  by  anj 
other  individual  should  be  held  to  represent  the  opinions  of  the 
Irish  Catholics.  It  has  been  stated  that  laughter  was  produced  bj 
an  ebullition  of  disastrous  merriment.  I will  suppose  that  some  twe 
or  three  dozen  of  individuals  in  an  obscure  country  town,  did  nol 
preserve  the  solemnity  with  which  any  allusion  to  the  maladies  o I 
an  illustrious  person  ought  to  have  been  received,  yet  it  is  wholly 
unjust  to  hold  the  Irish  Catholics  responsible  for  their  lack  of  sensi 
bility.  Having  said  this  much,  in  order  to  rescue  my  fellow-labor- 
ers in  the  cause  of  emancipation  from  any  responsibility  for  individual 
demerit,  I shall  proceed  to  state  what,  in  my  judgment,  affords  a 
justification  of  the  language  employed  upon  the  occasion  to  which  I 
refer.  'I  shall  not  deny  that  I entertain  a solicitude  upon  this  sub- 
ject. It  is  affectation  on  the  part  of  am-  man  to  say  that  he  holds 
the  censure  of  the  press  in  no  account.  I cannot  but  be  sensible 
that  I am,  from  my  comparative  want  of  personal  importance,  more 
exposed  to  the  injurious  consequence  of  such  a simultaneous  assault. 
But  I do  not  complain ; whoever  intermeddles  in  public  proceedings 
must  be  prepared  for  occasional  condemnation.  It  is  one  of  the 
necessary  results  of  notoriety,  and  I submit  to  it  as  a portion  of  my 
fate.  I shall  not,  therefore,  insinuate  that  there  is  any  mock  senti- 
mentality in  the  amiable  indignation  with  which  the  writers  of  the 
Whig  journals  have  vented  their  censures  upon  what  they  call  the 
barbarous  hilarity  of  an  after-dinner  harangue.  I will  not  say  that 
it  is  easy  to  procure  a character  for  high  sentiment  by  indulging  in 
a paroxysm  of  editorial  anger.  Nay,  I will  give  the  gentlemen  who 
have  put  so  much  sentiment  into  type  credit  for  sincerity,  and  with- 
out attempting  to  retaliate,  without  referring  them  to  their  own 
comments  upon  the  illustrious  immoralities  of  the  distinguished 
person  to  whom  I have  alluded,  I shall  state  the  grounds  of  which  I 
conceive  that  I have  been  unjustly  assailed.  It  is  right  that  1 should 
at  once  proceed  to  mention  exactly  what  took  place.  The  chairman 
of  the  meeting  in  question  deviated  from  the  ordinary  usage  at 
Homan  Catholic  dinners,  and,  in  compliance  with  what,  from  his 
inexperience,  he  considered  to  be  a sort  of  formula  of  convivial 
loyalty,  proposed  the  health  of  a man  who  is  an  object,  to  use  the 


HEMRY 


SELECT  SPEECHES 


BY 


Right  Hon,  Henry  Grattan, 


C587  3 


DECLARATION  OF  IRISH  RIGHTS, 


April  19,  1780. 

On  this  day  came  on  the  most  important  subject  that  had  ever  been  discussed  In 
the  Irish  Parliament,  — the  question  of  independence  — the  recovery  of  that  legis- 
lative power,  of  which,  for  centuries,  Ireland  had  been  so  unjustly  deprived. 

Her  right  to  make  laws  for  herself,  was  first  affected  by  the  act  of  the  10th  of 
Henry  the  Seventh,  in  a parliament,  held  at  Drogheda,  before  the  then  Deputy,  Sir 
Edward  Poynings.  It  was  there  enacted  that  no  parliament  should  be  holden  in 
Ireland,  until  the  Lord-lieutenant  and  Privy  Council  should  certify  to  the  King 
under  the  great  seal  of  Ireland,  the  causes,  considerations,  and  acts  that  were  to 
pass ; that  the  same  should  be  affirmed  by  the  King  and  council  in  England,  and  his 
license  to  summon  a parliament  be  obtained  under  the  great  seal  of  England.  This 
was  further  explained  by  the  3d  and  4th  of  Philip  and  Mary,  whereby  any  change  or 
alteration  in  the  form  or  tenor  of  such  acts  to  be  passed  after  they  were  returned 
from  England,  was  prohibited.  Thus,  by  these  laws  the  English  privy  council  got 
the  power  to  alter  or  suppress,  and  the  Irish  parliament  were  deprived  of  the  power 
to  originate,  alter,  or  amend. 

By  these  acts  were  the  legislative  rights  of  Ireland  invaded:  her  judicial  rights, 
however,  remained  untouched,  till,  in  1688,  a petition  and  appeal  was  lodged  with 
the  House  of  Lords  of  England,  from  the  English  society  of  the  new  plantation  of 
Ulster,  complaining  of  the  Irish  House  of  Lords,  who  had  decided  in  a case  between 
them  and  the  Bishop  of  Derry.  Upon  this  the  English  House  of  Lords  passed  an 
order  declaring,  that  this  appeal  was  coram  non  judice.  To  this  order  fourteen 
reasons  and  answers  were  written  by  the  celebrated  Molyneux,  and  the  appeal  gave 
rise  to  his  famous  work,  entitled  “ The  Case  of  Ireland,”  which  excited  the  hostility 
of  the  English  House  of  Commons,  and  was  burned  by  the  hands  of  the  common 
hangman  ! The  Irish  House  of  Lords  then  asserted  their  rights,  passed  resolutions, 
and  protested  against  the  English  proceedings ; thus  matters  remained  until  1703, 
when  came  on  the  case  of  the  Earl  and  Countess  of  Meath  against  the  Lord  Ward, 
who  were  dispossessed  of  their  lands  by  a pretended  order  of  the  House  of  Lords  in 
England,  on  which  the  Irish  House  of  Peers  adopted  the  former  resolutions,  assert- 
ing their  rights,  and  restored  possession  to  the  Earl  and  Countess.  In  1703,  the 
appeal  of  Maurice  Aunesley  was  entertained  in  England,  and  the  decree  of  the  Irish 
House  of  Lords  was  reversed;  and  the  English  House  of  Lords  had  recourse  to  the 
authority  of  the  Barons  of  the  Exchequer  in  Ireland  to  enforce  their  order;  the 
Sheriff  refused  obedience ; the  Irish  House  of  Lords  protected  the  Sheriff,  and 
agreed  to  a representation  to  the  King  on  the  subject.  This  produced  the  arbitrary 
act  of  the  6th  of  George  the  First,  which  declared,  that  Ireland  was  a subordinate 

( 539  ) 


510 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


and  dependent  kingdom ; that  the  King,  Lords,  and  Commons  of  England  had 
power  to  make  Laws  to  bind  Ireland;  that  the  House  of  Lords  of  Ireland  had  no 
jurisdiction,  and  that  all  proceedings  before  that  Court  were  void.  Under  this  act, 
and  to  such  injustice,  the  Irish  nation  were  compelled  to  submit,  until  the  spirit  of 
the  present  day  arose,  and  that  commanding  power  which  the  armed  volunteers  gavr 
to  the  country,  encouraged  the  people  to  rise  unanimously  against  this  usurped  and 
tyrannical  authority.  The  efforts  of  the  nation  to  obtain  a free  trade,  the  compliance 
of  the  British  Parliament  with  that  claim;  the  British  act  passed  inconsequence 
thereof,  which  allowed  the  trade  between  Ireland  and  the  British  colonies  and  plan- 
tations in  America  and  the  West  Indies,  and  the  British  settlements  on  the  coast  of 
Africa,  had  raised  the  hopes  of  the  Irish  people.  The  resolutions  and  proceedings 
of  the  volunteers,  and  the  answers  to  their  addresses  by  the  patriotic  members,  had 
still  further  roused  the  people  to  a sense  of  their  rights  and  their  condition,  and  the 
hour  was  approaching  which  was  to  witness  the  restoration  of  their  liberty.  Mr. 
Grattan  had,  on  a preceding  day,  given  notice  that  he  would  bring  forward  a meas- 
ure regarding  the  rights  of  Ireland ; and  in  pursuance  of  that  notice  he  rose  and 
spoke  as  follows : 

‘ qtIR,  I have  entreated  an  attendance  on  this  day,  that  you  might, 
|E||  in  the  most  public  manner,  deny  the  claim  of  the  British  Par- 
'S1 liament  to  make  law  for  Ireland,  and  with  one  voice  lift  up 
itjr  your  hands  against  it. 

If  I had  lived  when  the  9th  of  William  took  away  the  woollen 
manufacture,  or  when  the  6th  of  George  the  First  declared  this 
country  to  he  dependent,  and  subject  to  laws  to  be  enacted  by  the 
Parliament  of  England,  I should  have  made  a covenant  with  my  own 
conscience  to  seize  the  first  moment  of  rescuing  my  country  from  the 
ignominy  of  such  acts  of  power ; or,  if  I had  a son,  I should  have 
administered  to  him  an  oath  that  he  would  consider  himself  a person 
separate  and  set  apart  for  the  discharge  of  so  important  a duty  ; upon 
the  same  principle  I am  now  come  to  move  a declaration  of  right, 
the  first  moment  occurring,  since  my  time,  in  which  such  a declara- 
tion could  be  made  with  any  chance  of  success,  and  without  aggra- 
vation of  oppression. 

Sir,  it  must  appear  to  every  person,  that,  notwithstanding  the 
import  of  sugar  and  export  of  woollens,  the  people  of  this  country 
are  not  satisfied  — something  remains  ; the  greater  work  is  behind  ; 
the  public  heart  is  not  well  at  ease.  To  promulgate  our  satisfaction  ; 
to  stop  the  throats  of  millions  with  the  votes  of  Parliament;  to 
preach  homilies  to  the  volunteers ; to  utter  invectives  against  the 
people,  under  pretence  of  affectionate  advice,  is  an  attempt,  weak, 
suspicious  and  inflammatory. 


HENRY  GRATTAN. 


555 

erty.  I do  call  upon  }’ou,  by  the  laws  of  the  laud  and  their  violation, 
t>y  the  instruction  of  eighteen  counties,  by  the  arms,  inspiration, 
and  providence  of  the  present  moment,  tell  us  the  rule  by  which 
we  shall  go,  — assert  the  law  of  Ireland,  — declare  the  liberty  of  the 
land. 

I will  not  be  answered  by  a public  lie,  in  the  shape  of  an  amend- 
ment ; neither,  speaking  for  the  subject’s  freedom,  am  I to  hear  of 
faction.  I wish  for  nothing  but  to  breathe,  in  this  our  island,  in 
common  with  my  fellow-subjects,  the  air  of  liberty.  I have  no 
ambition,  unless  it  be  the  ambition  to  break  your  chain,  and  contem- 
plate your  glory.  I never  will  be  satisfied  so  long  as  the  meanest 
cottager  in  Ireland  has  a link  of  the  British  chain  clanking  to  his 
rags ; he  may  be  naked,  he«shall  not  be  in  iron  ; and  I do  see  the 
time  is  at  hand,  the  spirit  is  gone  forth,  the  declaration  is  planted  ; 
and  though  great  men  shall  apostatize,  yet  the  cause  will  live ; and 
though  the  public  speaker  should  die,  yet  the  immortal  fire  shall 
outlast  the  organ  which  conveyed  it,  and  the  breath  of  liberty,  like 
the  word  of  the  holy  man,  will  not  die  with  the  prophet,  but  survive 
him. 


556  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Philippic  Against  Flood, 


October  28,  1783. 

T was  said  "that  the  pen  would  fall  from  the  hand,  and  the  foetus 
of  the  mind  would  die  unborn,”*  if  men  had  not  a privilege  to 
maintain  a right  in  the  Parliament  hf  England  to  make  law  for 
Ireland.  The  affectation  of  zeal,  and  a burst  of  forced  and 
metaphorical  conceits,  aided  by  the  acts  of  the  press,  gave  an  alarm 
which,  I hope,  was  momentary,  and  which  only  exposed  the  arti- 
fice of  those  who  were  wicked,  and  the  haste  of  those  who  were 
deceived. 

But  it  is  not  the  slander  of  an  evil  tongue  that  can  defame  me.  I 
maintain  my  reputation  in  public  and  in  private  life.  No  man,  who 
has  not  a bad  character,  can  ever  say  that  I deceived  ; no  country  can 
call  me  a cheat.  But  I will  suppose  such  a public  character.  I will 
suppose  such  a man  to  have  existence ; I will  begin  with  his  charac- 
ter in  his  political  cradle,  and  I will  follow  him  to  the  last  state  of 
political  dissolution. 

I will  suppose  him,  in  the  first  stage  of  his  life,  to  have  been 
intemperate  ; in  the  second,  to  have  been  corrupt ; and  in  the  last, 
seditious  ; that,  after  an  envenomed  attack  on  the  persons  and  mea- 
sures of  a succession  of  viceroys,  and  after  much  declamation  against 
their  illegalities  and  their  profusion,  he  took  office,  and  became  a 
supporter  of  Government,  when  the  profusion  of  ministers  had 
greatly  increased,  and  their  crimes  multiplied  beyond  example  : when 
your  money  bills  were  altered  without  reserve  by  the  council ; when 
an  embargo  was  laid  on  your  export  trade,  and  a war  declared  against 
the  liberties  of  America.  At  such  a critical  moment  I will  suppose 
this  gentleman  to  be  corrupted  by  a great  sinecure  office  to  muzzle 

* Mr.  Flood’s  expression. 


HENRY  GRATTAN. 


561 


Commercial  Propositions. 


August  12,  1785. 

jij|S|OWEVEfl,  lest  certain  glosses  snould  seem  to  go  unanswered, 
I shall,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  waive  past  settlements,  and 
combat  the  reasoning  of  the  English  resolutions,  the  address, 
V His  Majesty’s  answer  and  the  reasoning  of  this  day.  It  is 
here  said,  that  the  laws  respecting  commerce  and  navigation  should 
be  similar,  and  inferred  that  Ireland  should  subscribe  the  laws  of 
England  on  those  subjects  ; that  is  the  same  law,  the  same  legisla- 
ture. But  this  argument  goes  a great  deal  too  far : it  goes  to  the 
army,  for  the  mutiny  bill  should  be  the  same  ; it  was  endeavored  to 
be  extended  to  the  collection  of  your  revenue,  and  is  in  train  to  be 
extended  to  your  taxes ; it  goes  to  the  extinction  of  the  most  invalu- 
able part  of  your  parliamentary  capacity ; it  is  a union,  an  incipient 
and  creeping  union;  a virtual  union,  establishing  one  will  in  the 
general  concerns  of  commerce  and  navigation,  and  reposing  that  will 
in  the  Parliament  of  Great  Britain ; a union  where  our  Parliament 
preserves  its  existence  after  it  has  lost  its  authority,  and  our  people 
are  to  pay  for  a parliamentary  establishment,  without  any  proportion 
of  parliamentary  representation.  In  opposing  the  right  honorable 
gentleman’s  bill,  I consider  myself  as  opposing  a union  in  limine, 
and  that  argument  for  union  which  makes  similarity  of  law  and  com- 
munity of  interest  (reason  strong  for  the  freedom  of  Ireland  1)  a 
pretence  for  a condition  which  would  be  dissimilarity  of  law,  because 
extinction  of  constitution,  and  therefore  hostility,  not  community  of 
interest.  I ask  on  what  experience  is  this  argument  founded  ? Have 
you,  ever  since  your  redemption,  refused  to  preserve  a similarity  of 
law  in  trade  and  navigation  ? Have  you  not  followed  Great  Britain 
in  all  her  changes  of  the  act  of  navigation  during  the  whole  of  that 


5G2  treasury  of  eloquence. 

unpalatable  business,  the  American  war?  Have  you  not  excluded 
the  cheap  produce  of  other  plantations,  in  order  that  Irish  poverty 
might  give  a monopoly  to  the  dear  produce  of  the  British  colonies? 
Have  you  not  made  a better  use  of  your  liberty  than  Great  Britain 
did  of  her  power?  But  I have  an  objection  to  this  argument, 
stronger  even  than  its  want  of  foundation  in  reason  and  experiment ; 
I hold  it  to  be  nothing  less  than  an  intolerance  of  the  parliamentary 
constitution  of  Ireland,  a declaration  that  the  full  and  free  external 
legislation  of  the  Irish  Parliament  is  incompatible  with  the  British 
empire.  I do  acknowledge  that  by  }Tour  external  power,  you  might 
discompose  the  harmony  of  the  empire,  and  I add  that  by  your  powei 
over  the  purse,  you  might  dissolve  the  state  : but  to  the  latter  you 
owe  your  existence  in  the  constitution,  and  to  the  former,  your  au- 
thority and  station  in  the  empire : this  argument,  therefore,  rests 
the  connection  upon  a new  and  a false  principle,  goes  directly  against 
the  root  of  Parliament,  and  is  not  a difficulty  to  be  accommodated, 
but  an  error  to  be  eradicated  ; and  if  any  body  of  men  can  still  think 
that  the  Irish  constitution  is  incompatible  with  the  British  empire  — 
doctrine  which  I abjure  as  sedition  against  the  connection ; but  if 
any  body  of  men  are  justified  in  thinking  that  the  Irish  constitution 
is  incompatible  with  the  British  empire,  perish  the  empire  ! live  the 
constitution  ! Reduced  by  .this  false  dilemma  to  take  a part,  my 
second  wish  is  the  British  empire,  my  first  wish  and  bounden  duty 
is  the  liberty  of  Ireland. 

But  we  are  told  this  imperial  power  is  not  only  necessarj'’  for  Eng- 
land, but  safe  for  Ireland.  What  is  the  present  question?  what  but 
the  abuse  of  this  very  power  of  regulating  the  trade  of  Ireland  by 
the  British  Parliament,  excluding  you  and  including  herself  by  virtue 
of  the  same  words  of  the  same  act  of  navigation  ? And  what  was  the 
promovent  cause  of  this  arrangement?  what  but  the  power  you  are 
going  to  surrender  — the  distinct  and  independent  external  authority 
of  the  Irish  Parliament,  competent  to  question  that  misconstruction? 
What  is  the  remedy  now  proposed? — the  evil.  Go  back  to  the 
Parliament  of  England.  I ask  again,  what  were  the  difficulties  in 
the  way  of  your  eleven  propositions?  what  but  the  jealousy  of  the 
British  manufacturers  on  the  subject  of  trade?  And  will  you  make 
them  your  parliament,  and  that  too  forever,  and  that  too  on  the  sub- 
ject of  their  jealousy,  and  in  the  moment  they  displayed  it  I I will 


HENRY  GRATTAN.  571 

he  makes  you  another  offer,  inconsistent  with  the  former,  which 
offer  the  English  do  not  support,  and  the  Irish  deprecate. 

We  can  go  on  ; we  have  a growing  prosperity,  and  as  yet  an  ex- 
emption from  intolerable  taxes  ; we  can  from  time  to  time  regulate 
our  own  commerce,  cherish  our  manufactures,  keep  down  our  taxes, 
and  bring  on  our  people,  and  brood  over  the  growing  prosperity  of 
young  Ireland.  In  the  mean  time  we  will  guard  our  free  trade  and 
free  constitution,  as  our  only  real  resources  ; they  were  the  struggles 
of  great  virtue,  the  result  of  much  perseverance,  and  our  broad  base 
of  public  action  ! We  should  recollect  that  this  House  may  now, 
with  peculiar  propriety,  interpose,  because  you  did,  with  great  zeal 
and  success,  on  this  very  subject  of  trade,  bring  on  the  people  ; and 
you  did,  with  great  prudence  and  moderation,  on  auotlier  occasion, 
check  a certain  description  of  the  people,  and  you  are  now  called 
upon  by  consistency  to  defend  the  people.  Thus  mediating  between 
extremes,  you  will  preserve  this  island  long,  and  preserve  her  with 
a certain  degree  of  renown.  Thus  faithful  to  the  constitution  of  the 
country,  you  will  command  and  insure  her  tranquility  ; for  our  best 
authority  with  the  people  is  protection  afforded  against  the  ministers 
of  the  Crown.  It  is  not  public  clamour,  but  public  injury  that  should 
alarm  you  ; your  high  ground  of  expostulation  with  your  fellow-sub- 
jects has  been  your  services  ; the  free  trade  you  have  given  the  mer- 
chant, and  the  free  constitution  you  have  given  the  island  ! Make 
your  third  great  effort  — preserve  them,  and  with  them  preserve  un- 
altered your  own  calm  sense  of  public  right,  the  dignity  of  the  par- 
liament, the  majesty  of  the  people,  and  the  powers  of  the  island ! 
Keep  them  unsullied,  uncovenanted,  uncircumscribed,  and  unstipen- 
diary! These  paths  are  the  paths  to  glory,  and,  let  me  add,  these 
ways  are  the  ways  of  peace  : so  shall  the  prosperity  of  your  country, 
though  without  a tongue  to  thank  you,  yet  laden  with  the  blessings 
of  constitution  and  of  commerce,  bear  attestation  to  your  services, 
and  wait  on  your  progress  with  involuntary  praise  ! 


572 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Anti-Union  Speeches, 


January  15,  1800. 

Mr.  Egain  haa  just  risen  to  speak,  when  Mr.  Grattan  entered  the  House,  supported 
(in  consequence  of  illness)  by  Mr.  W.  B.  Ponsonby  and  Mr.  Arthur  Moore.*  He 
took  the  oaths  and  his  seat,  and  after  Mr.  Egan  had  concluded,  in  consequence  ol 
illness  being  obliged  to  speak  sitting,  he  addressed  the  House  as  follows : — 

|jj|||IIl,  The  gentleman  who  spoke  last  but  one  (Mr.  Fox)  has  spoken 
the  pamphlet  or  the  English  minister  — I answer  that  minister. 
He  has  published  two  celebrated  productions,  in  both  of  which 
i he  declares  his  intolerance  of  the  constitution  of  Ireland.  He 
concurs  with  the  men  whom  he  has  hanged,  in  thinking  the  con- 
stitution a grievance,  and  differs  from  them  in  the  remedy  only ; 
they  proposing  to  substitute  a republic,  and  he  proposing  to  substi- 
tute the  yoke  of  the  British  Parliament ; the  one  turns  rebel  to  the 
Kins,  the  minister  a rebel  to  the  constitution. 

We  have  seen  him  inveigh  against  their  projects,  let  us  hear  him 
in  defence  of  his  own.  He  denies  in  the  face  of  the  two  nations  a 
public  fact  registered  and  recorded  ; he  disclaims  the  final  adjustment 
of  1782,  and  he  tells  you  that  this  final  adjustment  was  no  more  than 
an  incipient  train  of  negotiation.  The  settlement  of  which  I speak 
consists  of  several  parts,  every  part  a record,  establishing  on  the 
whole  two  grand  positions.  First,  the  admission  of  Ireland’s  claim 
to  be  legislated  for  by  no  other  parliament  but  that  of  Ireland. 
Secondly,  the  finality  imposed  upon  the  two  nations,  fegarding~all 
constitutional  projects  affecting  each  other.  On  the  admission  of 

* The  reporters  who  have  transmitted  the  account  of  the  debates  of  the  day, 
state,  “ Never  was  beheld  a scene  more  solemn;  an  indescribable  emotion  seized 
the  House  and  gallery,  and  every  heart  heaved  in  tributary  pulsation  to  the  name, 
virtues,  and  the  return  to  parliament  of  the  founder  of  the  constitution  of  1782 ; the 
existence  of  which  was  then  the  subject  of  debate.” 


IIENRY  GRATTAN.  6H 


Invective  Against  Corry, 


February  14th,  1800. 

the  gentleman  done  ? Has  he  completely  done  ? He  was 
j§§||  unparliamentary  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  bis  speech. 
*7$  There  was  scarce  a word  he  uttered  that  was  not  a violation 

j>  of  the  privileges  of  the  House ; but  I did  not  call  him  to 

order  — why  ? because  the  limited  talents  of  some  men  render  it 
impossible  for  them  to  be  severe  without  being  unparliamentary. 
But  before  I sit  down  I shall  show  him  how  to  be  severe  and  parlia- 
mentary at  the  same  time.  On  any  other  occasion  I should  think 
myself  justifiable  in  treating  with  silent  contempt  anything  which 
might  fall  from  that  honorable  member ; but  there  are  times  when 
the  insignificance  of  the  accuser  is  lost  in  the  magnitude  of  the  accu- 
sation. I know  the  difficulty  the  honorable  gentleman  labored 
under  when  he  attacked  me,  conscious  that,  on  a comparative  view 
of  our  characters,  public  and  private,  there  is  nothing  he  could  say 
which  would  injure  me.  The  public  would  not  believe  the  charge. 
I despise  the  falsehood.  If  such  a charge  were  made  by  an  honest 
man,  I would  answer  it  in  the  manner  I shall  do  before  I sit  down. 
But  I shall  first  reply  to  it  when  not  made  by  an  honest  man. 

The  right  honorable  gentleman  has  called  me  " au  unimpeached 
traitor.”  I ask,  why  not  "traitor,”  unqualified  by  any  epithet?  I 
will  tell  him  ; it  was  because  he  dare  not.  It  was  the  act  of  a cow- 
ard, who  raises  his  aim  to  strike,  but  has  not  courage  to  give  the 
blow.  I will  not  call  him  villain,  because  it  would  be  unparliamen- 
tary, and  he  is  a privy  counsellor.  I will  not  call  him  fool,  because 
he  happens  to  be  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer.  But  I say  he  is  one 
who  has  abused  the  privilege  of  parliament  and  freedom  of  debate  to 
the  uttering  language,  which,  if  spoken  out  of  the  House.  I should 


C12  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

answer  only  with  a blow.  I care  not  how  high  his  situation,  how 
low  his  character,  how  contemptible  his  speech  ; whether  a privy 
counsellor  or  a parasite,  my  answer  would  be  a blow,  lie  has 
charged  me  with  being  connected  with  the  rebels:  the  charge  is 
utterly,  totally,  and  meanly  false.  Does  the  honorable  gentleman 
rely  on  the  report  of  the  House  of  Lords  for  the  foundation  of  his 
assertion?  If  lie  does,  I can  prove  to  the  committee  there  was  a 
physical  impossibility  of  that  report  being  true.  But  I scorn  to 
answer  any  man  for  my  conduct,  whether  he  be  a political  coxcomb, 
or  whether  he  brought  himself  into  power  by  a false  glare  of  courage 
or  not.  I scorn  to  answer  any  wizard  of  the  Castle  throwing  himself 
into  fantastical  airs.  But  it  an  honorable  and  independent  man 
were  to  make  a charge  against  me,  I would  say : " You  charge  me 
with  having  an  intercourse  with  the  rebels,  and  you  found  your 
charge  upon  what  is  said  to  have  appeared  before  a committee  of  the 
Lords.  Sir,  the  report  of  that  committee  is  totally  and  egregiously 
irregular.”  I will  read  a letter  from  Mr.  Nelson,  who  had  been 
examined  before  that  committee;  it  states  that  what  the  report 
represents  him  as  having  spoken,  is  not  what  he  said.  [Mr.  Grattan 
here  read  a letter  from  Mr.  Nelson,  denying  that  he  had  any  connec- 
tion with  Mr.  Grattan  as  charged  in  the  report ; and  concluding 
by  saying,  " never  was  misrepresentation  more  vile  than  that  put  into 
my  mouth  by  the  report .”] 

From  the  situation  that  I held,  and  from  the  connections  I had  in 
the  city  of  Dublin,  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  hold  intercourse  with 
various  descriptions  of  persons.  The  right  honorable  member  might 
as  well  have  been  charged  with  a participation  in  the  guilt  of  those 
traitors  ; for  he  had  communicated  w ith  some  of  those  very  persons 
on  the  subject  of  parliamentary  reform.  The  Irish  government, 
too,  were  in  communication  with  some  of  them. 

The  right  honorable  member  has  told  me  I deserted  a profession 
where  wealth  and  station  were  the  rew'ard  of  industry  and  talent.  If 
I mistake  not,  that  gentleman  endeavored  to  obtain  those  rewards 
by  the  same  means  ; but  he  soon  deserted  the  occupation  of  a barris- 
ter for  those  of  a parasite  and  pander.  He  fled  from  the  labor  of 
study  to  flatter  at  the  table  of  the  great.  He  found  the  lord’s  parlor 
a better  sphere  for  his  exertions  than  the  hall  of  the  Four  Courts ; 
the  house  of  a great  man  a more  convenient  way  to  power  and  to 


SPEECH  E.S 


Daniel  O’Connell,  M.  P. 


[«!*] 


Speech  at  Limerick,  1812 


8«|  FEEL  it  my  duty,  as  a professed  agitator,  to  address  th6 
meeting.  It  is  merely  in  the  exercise  of  my  office  of  agitation, 
that*  I think  it  necessary  to  say  a few  words.  For  any  purpose 
l of  illustration  or  argument,  further  discourse  is  useless  : all 
the  topics  which  the  present  period  suggested,  have  been  treated  of 
with  sound  judgment,  and  a rare  felicity  of  diction,  by  my  respected 
and  talented  friend  (Mr.  Roche)  ; all  I shall  do  is,  to  add  a few 
observations  to  what  has  fallen  from  that  gentleman  ; and  whilst  I 
sincerely  admire  the  happy  style  in  which  he  has  treated  those  sub- 
jects, I feel  deep  regret  at  being  unable  to  imitate  his  excellent 
discourse. 

And,  first,  let  me  concur  with  him  in  congratulating  the  Catholics 
of  Limerick  on  the  progress  our  great  cause  has  made  since  we  were 
last  assembled.  Since  that  period  our  cause  has  not  rested  for  sup- 
port on  the  efforts  of  those  alone  who  were  immediately  interested  ; 
no,  our  Protestant  brethren  throughout  the  land  have  added  their 
zealous  exertions  for  our  emancipation.  They  have,  with  admirable 
patriotism,  evinced  their  desire  to  conciliate  by  serving  us,  and  I am 
sure  I do  but  justice  to  the  Catholics,  when  I proclaim  our  gratitude, 
as  written  on  our  hearts,  and  to  be  extinguished  only  with  our  lives. 

Nor  has  the  support  and  the  zeal  of  our  Protestant  brethren  been 
vain  and  barren.  No,  it  has  been  productive  of  great  and  solid  ad- 
vantages ; it  has  procured,  for  the  cause  of  religious  liberty,  the 
respect  even  of  the  most  bigoted  of  our  opponents ; it  has  struck 
down  English  prejudice;  it  has  convinced  the  mistaken  honest ; it 
has  terrified  the  hypocritical  knaves  ; and  finally,  it  has  pronounced 
for  us,  by  a great  and  triumphant  majority,  from  one  of  the  branches 
of  the  legislature,  the  distinct  recognition  of  the  propriety  and  the 
necessity  of  conceding  justice  to  the  great  body  of  the  Irish  people. 


(617) 


G18 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Let  us,  therefore,  rejoice  in  our  mutual  success  ; let  us  rejoice  in 
the  near  approach  of  freedom  ; let  us  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  soon 
shaking  off  our  chains,  and  of  the  speedy  extinction  of  our  griev- 
ances. But  above  all,  let  us  rejoice  at  the  means  by  which  these 
happy  effects  have  been  produced ; let  us  doubly  rejoice,  because 
they  afford  no  triumph  to  any  part  of  the  Irish  nation  over  the  other 
— that  they  arc  not  the  result  of  any  contention  among  ourselves  ; 
but  constitute  a victory,  obtained  for  the  Catholics  by  the  Protest- 
ants— that  they  prove  the  liberality  of  the  one,  and  require  the 
eternal  gratitude  of  the  other  — that  they  prove  and  promise  the 
eternal  dissolution  of  ancient  animosities  and  domestic  feuds,  and 
afford  to  every  Christian  and  to  every  patriot,  the  cheering ’certainty 
of  seeing  peace,  harmony,  and  benevolence  prevail  in  that  country, 
where  a wicked  and  perverted  policy  has  so  long  and  so  fatally 
propagated  and  encouraged  dissension,  discord,  and  rancor. 

We  owe  it  to  the  liberality  of  the  Irish  Protestants  — to  the  zeal  of 
the  Irish  Presbyterians  — to  the  friendly  exertion  of  the  Irish  Quak- 
ers ; we  owe,  to  the  cordial  re-union  of  every  sect  and  denomination 
of  Irish  Christians,  the  progress  of  our  cause.  They  have  procured 
for  us  the  solemn  and  distinct  promise  and  pledge  of  the  House  of 
Commons  — they  almost  obtained  for  us  a similar  declaration  from 
the  House  of  Lords.  It  was  lost  by  the  petty  majority  of  one  — it 
was  lost  by  a majority,  not  of  those  who  listened  to  the  absurd 
prosings  of  Lord  Eldon,  to  the  bigoted  and  turbid  declamation  of 
that  English  Chief  Justice,  whose  sentiments  so  forcibly  recall  the 
memory  of  the  star-chamber ; not  of  those  w'ho  were  able  to  com- 
pare the  vapid  or  violent  folly  of  the  one  party,  with  the  states- 
man-like sentiments,  the  profound  arguments,  the  splendid  eloquence 
of  the  Marquis  Wellesley.  Not  of  those  who  heard  the  reasonings 
of  our  other  illustrious  advocates ; but  by  a majority  of  men  who 
acted  upon  preconceived  opinions,  or,  from  a distance,  carried  into 
effect  their  bigotry,  or,  perhaps,  worse  propensities — who  availed 
themselves  of  that  absurd  privilege  of  the  peerage,  which  enables 
those  to  decide  who  have  not  heard  — which  permits  men  to  pro- 
nounce upon  subjects  they  have  not  discussed  — and  allow-s  a final 
determination  to  precede  argument. 

It  was  not,  however,  to  this  privilege  alone,  that  our  want  of  suc- 
cess was  to  be  attributed.  The  very  principle  upon  which  the  present 


* 


DANIEL  O'CONNELL.  629 

Erin,  and  my  beloved  friend,  whose  delightful  muse  has  the  sound 
of  the  ancient  minstrelsy  — 

“ Still  shalt  thou  be  my  midnight  dream  — 

Thy  glory  still  my  waking  theme ; 

And  ev’ry  thought  and  wish  of  mine, 

Unconquered  Erin,  shall  be  thine  1 " 


! 

i 


630 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Speech 


In  the  British  Catholic  Association,  on  the  Defeat  of  the 


»j«8HE  measure  of  which  we  complained  is  of  too  recent  a date, 
the  injury  which  we  have  sustained  is  yet  too  fresh,  too  gall- 
ing in  its  effects,  to  allow  my  reason  to  assume  the  ascendant 


on,  and  influence  the  tenor  of  my  reflections.  I shall  nevertheless 
be  as  respectful  in  my  allusions,  and  as  moderate  in  the  remarks  1 
have  to  offer,  as  the  overboiling  fervency  of  my  Irish  blood  wiii 
permit.  By  rejecting  that  bill  which  the  Commons  had  sent  up  to 
them  for  their  concurrence  and  approval,  the  House  of  Lords  has 
inflicted  a vital  injury  on  the  stability  of  English  power,  and  on 
Irish  feelings  and  Irish  honesty.  They,  however,  would  not  be  cast 
down  by  that  injury.  The  Catholics  were  sometimes  in  derision 
termed  "Roman.”  I am  a Catholic,  and  proud  am  I to  say  that  in 
one  thing  at  least  I am  a Roman  — I never  will  despair.  But  on 
what  is  this  boastful  assertion  founded?  Why  should  I say  that 
which  I feel  has  not  reason  or  sound  policy  to  support  it  ? Where 
now,  I would  ask,  is  there  a rational  hope  for  a Catholic?  Where 
shall  I look  for  consolation  under  the  present  great  and  serious  dis- 
appointment ? Am  I to  look  back  ? Alas  ! there  is  nothing  cheer- 
ing in  the  events  which  have  for  some  time  past  met  us  on  the  way 
to  success  and  dashed  our  hopes  to  the  earth.  Does  history  furnish 
any  grounds  for  the  supposition  that  those  who  have  been  found 
incapable  of  maintaining  their  plighted  faith,  and  preserving  the 
terms  of  a great  national  contract,  will  now,  in  the  hour  of  success, 
be  induced  to  yield  any  reason,  any  inducement  to  us  to  proceed  in 
the  course  we  have  adopted?  Is  this,  I would  ask,  the  example 


Emancipation  Bill. 


Mat  26th,  1825. 


over  my  feelings,  and  to  give  my  judgment  time  to  operate 


DANIEL  O'CONNELL.  G(J5 

all  the  expenses  ; there  should  be  no  hireling  advocacy.  Prosecutors 
never  see  one  another  until  they  are  brought  into  court,  and  their 
case  comes  on  in  the  shape  of  a record.  In  every  case  of  litigation, 
the  contending  parties  should  previously  see  one  another,  the  judge 
explain  the  laws,  and  I have  no  doubt  that  under  those  circumstances 
a mutual  compromise  and  arrangement  would  take  place  before  the 
parties  would  leave  the  court.  There  is  one  subject  more  to  which 
I shall  advert.  I am  the  x*especter  of  authority.  If  calumny  assail 
the  Throne,  then  private  life  cannot  be  secure.  I have  read  with 
horror  some  details  of  a distinguished  individual  in  the  London  news- 
papers. The  story  of  Captain  Garth,  however,  must  come  to  light, 
and  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  I have  no  doubt,  will  be  freed  from 
the  foul  calumny  with  which  he  has  been  assailed.  No — I shall  not 
see  the  brother  of  my  King  attacked.  I am  no  respecter  of  persons, 
but  I will  call  for  and  demand  investigation  into  this  transaction. 
There  is  a moral  progress  at  present  in  the  world.  There  is  no  true 
basis  for  liberty  but  religion. 


666 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE- 


Speech 

At  Mullaghmast  Monster  Meeting. 


September,  1843. 

ACCEPT,  with  the  greatest  alacrity,  the  high  honor  you  havt 
done  me  in  calling  me  to  the  chair  of  this  majestic  meeting. 
I feel  more  honored  than  I ever  did  in  my  life,  with  one  single 
exception,  and  that  related  to,  if  possible,  an  equally  majestic 
meeting  at  Tara.  But  I must  say  that  if  a comparison  were  instituted 
between  them,  it  would  take  a more  discriminating  eye  than  mine  to 
discover  any  difference  between  them.  There  are  the  same  incal- 
culable numbers ; there  is  the  same  firmness ; there  is  the  same 
determination ; there  is  the  same  exhibition  of  love  to  old  Ireland  ; 
there  is  the  same  resolution  not  to  violate  the  peace  ; not  to  be  guilty 
of  the  slightest  outrage  ; not  to  give  the  enemy  power  by  commit- 
ting a crime,  but  peacefully  and  manfully  to  stand  together  in  the 
open  day,  to  protest  before  man  and  in  the  presence  of  God  against 
the  iniquity  of  continuing  the  Union. 

At  Tai’a,  I protested  against  the  Union  — I repeat  the  protest  at 
Mullaghmast.  I declare  solemnly  my  thorough  conviction  as  a con- 
stitutional lawyer,  that  the  Union  is  totally  void  in  point  of  principle 
and  of  constitutional  force.  I tell  you  that  no  portion  of  the  empire 
had  the  power  to  traffic  on  the  rights  and  liberties  of  the  Irish  people. 
The  Irish  people  nominated  them  to  make  laws,  and  not  legislatures. 
They  were  appointed  to  act  under  the  constitution  and  not  annihilate 
it.  Their  delegation  from  the  people  was  confined  within  the  limits  of 
the  constitution,  and  the  moment  the  Irish  parliament  wTent  beyond 
those  limits  and  destroyed  the  constitution,  that  moment  it  annihilated 
its  own  power,  but  could  not  annihilate  the  immortal  spirit  of  liberty, 
which  belongs,  as  a rightful  inheritance,  to  the  people  of  Ireland. 
Take  it  then  from  me  that  the  Union  is  void.  I admit  there  is  the 


SPEECHES, 


Charles  Phillips,  Esq, 


i 


A Speech 

Delivered  at  a Public  Dinner  give*  vo  1 Zr.  Finlay  by  the 
Roman  Catholics  of  the  Town  and  County  of  Sligo. 


S THINK,  Sir,  you  will  agree  with  me,  that  the  most  experienced 
speaker  might  justly  tremble  in  addressing  you,  after  the 
display  you  have  just  witnessed.  What  then,  must  I feel, 
who  never  before  addressed  a public  audience?  However,  it 
would  be  hut  an  unworthy  affectation  in  me,  were  I to  conceal  from 
you  the  emotions  with  which  I am  agitated  by  this  kindness.  The 
exaggerated  estimate  which  other  countries  have  made  of  the  few 
services  so  young  a man  could  render,  has  I hope,  inspired  me  with 
the  sentiments  it  ought ; but  here,  I do  confess  to  you,  I feel  no 
ordinary  sensation  — here,  where  every  object  springs  some  new 
association,  and  the  loveliest  objects,  mellowed  as  they  are  by  time, 
rise  painted  on  the  eye  of  memory  — here,  where  the  light  of 
heaven  first  blessed  my  infant  view,  and  nature  breathed  into  my 
infant  heart,  that  ardor  for  my  country  which  nothing  but  death 
can  chill  — here,  where  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  remind  me  how 
innocent  I was,  and  the  graves  of  my  fathers  admonish  me  how 
pure  I should  continue  — here,  standing  as  1 do  amongst  my  fairest, 
fondest,  earliest  sympathies  — such  a welcome,  operating,  not 
merely  as  an  affectionate  tribute,  but  as  a moral  testimony,  does 
indeed  quite  oppress  and  overwhelm  me. 

Oh  ! believe  me,  warm  is  the  heart  that  feels,  and  willing  is  the 
tongue  that  speaks  ; and  still,  I cannot,  by  shaping  it  to  my  rudely 
inexpressive  phrase,  shock  the  sensibility  of  a gratitude  too  full  to 
be  suppressed,  and  yet  (how  far  !)  too  eloquent  for  language. 

If  any  circumstance  could  add  to  the  pleasure  of  this  day,  it  is 
that  which  I feel  in  introducing  to  the  friends  of  my  youth  the  friend 
of  my  adoption  ; though  perhaps  I am  committing  one  of  our  im- 


G78 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


puted  blunders,  when  I speak  of  introducing  one  whose  palriotism 
has  already  rendered  him  familiar  to  every  heart  in  Ireland  ; a man, 
who,  conquering  every  disadvantage,  and  spurning  every  difficulty, 
has  poured  around  our  misfortunes  the  splendor  of  an  intellect, 
that  at  once  irradiates  and  consumes  them.  For  the  services  he  has 
rendered  to  his  country,  from  my  heart  I thank  him ; and,  for 
myself,  1 offer  him  a personal,  it  may  be  selfish  tribute,  for  saving  me, 
by  his  presence  this  night,  from  an  impotent  attempt  at  his  pane- 
gyric. Indeed,  gentlemen,  you  can  have  little  idea  of  what  he  has  to 
endure,  who  in  these  times,  advocates  your  cause.  Every  calumny 
which  the  venal  and  the  vulgar,  and  the  vile,  are  lavishing  upon  you, 
is  visited  with  exaggeration  upon  us.  We  are  called  traitors, 
because  we  would  rally  round  the  crown  an  unanimous  people.  Wo 
are  called  apostates,  because  wre  will  not  persecute  Christianity. 
We  are  branded  as  separatists,  because  of  our  endeavors  to  annihil- 
ate the  fetters  that,  instead  of  binding,,  clog  the  connection.  To 
these  may  be  added,  the  frowns  of  power,  the  envy  of  dulness,  the 
mean  malice  of  exposed  self-interest,  and,  it  may  be,  in  despite  of 
all  natural  affection,  even  the  discountenance  of  kindred  ! — Well,  be 
it  so,  — 

For  thee,  fair  Freedom,  welcome  all  the  past, 

For  thee,  my  country,  welcome,  even  the  last ! 

I am  not  ashamed  to  confess  to  you,  that  there  was  a day  when  I was 
bigoted  as  the  blackest ; but  I thank  the  Being  who  gifted  me  with 
a mind  not  quite  impervious  to  conviction,  and  I thank  you,  who 
afforded  such  convincing  testimonies  of  my  error.  I saw  you 
enduring  with  patience  the  most  unmerited  assaults,  bowing  before 
the  insults  of  revived  anniversaries ; in  private  life,  exemplary ; in 
public,  unoffending ; in  the  hour  of  peace,  asserting  your  loy- 
alty ; in  the  hour  of  danger,  proving  it.  Even  when  an  invading 
enemy  victoriously  penetrated  into  the  very  heart  of  our  country,  I 
saw  the  banner  of  your  allegiance  beamiug  refutation  on  your  slan- 
derers ; was  it  a wonder,  then  that  I seized  my  prejudices,  and  with 
a blush  burned  them  on  the  altar  of  my  country  ! 

The  great  question  of  Catholic,  shall  I not  rather  say,  of  Irish 
emancipation,  has  now  assumed  that  national  aspect  which  impel  i- 
ously  challenges  the  scrutiny  of  every  one.  While  it  was  shrouded 
iu  the  mantle  of  religious  mystery,  with  the  temple  for  its  sanctuary, 


CHARLES  PHILLIPS.  (Jg7 

with  the  energies  and  stamped  with  the  patent  of  the  Deity,  which, 
under  proper  culture  might  perhaps  bless,  adorn,  immortalize,  or 
ennoble  empires  ; some  Cincinnatus,  in  whose  breast  the  destinies 
of  a nation  may  lie  dormant;  some  Milton,  "pregnant  with  celes- 
tial fire;’  some  Curran,  who,  when  thrones  were  crumbled  and 
dynasties  forgotten,  might  stand  the  landmark  of  his  country’s 
genius,  rearing  himself  amid  regal  ruins  and  national  dissolution, 
a mental  pyramid  in  the  solitude  of  time,  beneath  whose  shade 
things  might  moulder,  and  round  whose  summit  eternity  must 
play.  Even  in  such  a circle  the  young  Demosthenes  might  have 
once  been  found,  and  Homer,  the  disgrace  and  glory  of  his  age, 
have  sung  neglected ! Have  not  other  nations  witnessed  those 
things,  and  who  shall  say  that  nature  has  peculiarly  degraded  the 
intellect  of  Ireland?  Oh,  my  countrymen,  let  us  hope  that  under 
better  auspices  and  a sounder  policy,  the  ignorance  that  thinks  so 
may  meet  its  refutation.  Let  us  turn  from  the  blight  and  ruin  of 
this  wintry  day  to  the  fond  anticipation  of  a happier  period,  when 
our  prostrate  land  shall  stand  erect  among  the  nations,  fearless  and 
unfettered  ; her  brow  blooming  with  the  wreath  of  science,  and  her 
path  strewed  with  the  offerings  of  art ; the  breath  of  heaven  bless- 
ing her  flag,  the  extremities  of  earth  acknowledging  her  name,  her 
fields  waving  with  the  fruits  of  agriculture,  her  ports  alive  with  the 
contributions  of  commerce,  and  her  temples  vocal  with  unrestricted 
piety.  Such  is  the  ambition  of  the  true  patriot ; such  are  the  views 
for  which  we  are  calumniated  ! Oh,  divine  ambition  ! Oh,  delight- 
ful calumny  ! Happy  he  who  shall  see  thee  accomplished  ! Happy 
he  who  through  every  peril  toils  for  thy  attainment ! Proceed,  friend 
of  Ireland  and  partaker  of  her  wrongs,  proceed  undaunted  to  this 
glorious  consummation.  Fortune  will  not  gild,  power  will  not  en- 
noble thee  : but  thou  shalt  be  rich  in  the  love  and  titled  by  the  bless- 
ings of  thy  country ; thy  path  shall  be  illumined  by  the  public  eye, 
thy  labors  enlightened  by  the  public  gratitude  ; and  oh,  remember  — 
amid  the  impediments  with  which  corruption  will  oppose,  and  the 
dejection  with  which  disappointments  may  depress  you  — remember 
you  are  acquiring  a name  to  be  cherished  by  the  future  generations 
of  earth,  long  after  it  has  been  enrolled  amongst  the  inheritors  of 
heaven. 


688  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


A Speech 

Delivered  at  an  Aggregate  Meeting  of  the  Roman  Catholics 

of  Cork. 


\ 

§wj|T  is  with  no  small  degree  of  self-congratulation  that  I at  length 
find  myself  in  a province  which  every  glance  of  the  eye,  and 
ijfc*  every  throb  of  the  heart,  tells  me  is  truly  Irish ; and  that 
l congratulation  is  not  a little  enhanced  by  linding  that  you  re- 
ceive me  not  quite  as  a stranger.  Indeed,  if  to  respect  the  Christian 
without  regard  to  his  creed,  if  to  love  the  country  but  the  more  for 
its  calamities,  if  to  hate  oppression  though  it  be  robed  in  power,  if 
to  venerate  integrity  though  it  pine  under  persecution,  gives  a man 
any  claim  to  your  recognition,  then,  indeed,  I am  not  a stranger 
amongst  you.  There  is  a bond  of  union  between  brethren,  however 
distant ; there  is  a sympathy  between  the  virtuous,  however  sep- 
parated ; there  is  a heaven-born  instinct  by  which  the  associates  of 
the  heart  become  at  once  acquainted,  and  kindred  natures,  as  it 
were  by  magic,  see  in  the  face  of  a stranger,  the  features  of  a friend. 
Thus  it  is,  that,  though  we  never  met,  you  hail  in  me  the  sweet  as- 
sociation, and  I feel  myself  amongst  you  even  as  if  I were  in  the 
home  of  my  nativity.  But  this  my  knowledge  of  you  was  not  left 
to  chance ; nor  was  it  left  to  the  records  of  your  charity,  the  memo- 
rials of  your  patriotism,  your  municipal  magnificence,  or  your  com- 
mercial splendor ; it  came  to  me  hallowed  by  the  accents  of  that 
tongue  on  which  Ireland  has  so  often  hung  with  ecstacy,  heightened 
by  the  eloquence  and  endeared  by  the  sincerity  of,  I hope,  our  mu- 
tual friend.  Let  me  congratulate  him  on  having  become  in  some 
degree,  naturalized  in  a province,  where  the  spirit  of  the  elder  day 
seems  to  have  lingered ; and  let  me  congratulate  you  on  the  acquis- 
ition of  a man  who  is  at  once  the  zealous  advocate  of  your  cause, 
and  a practical  instance  of  the  injustice  of  your  oppressions.  Surely, 


CHARLES  PHILLIPS. 


699 


A Speech 

Delivered  at  a Dinner  given  on  Dinas  Island,  m the  Lake 
of  Killarney,  on  Mr.  Phillips’  Health  being  given,  to- 
gether WITH  THAT  OF  Mr.  PAYNE,  A YOUNG  AMERICAN. 


ST  is  not  with  the  vain  hope  of  returning  by  words  the  kindnesses 
which  have  been  literally  showered  on  me  during  the  short 
p?  period  of  our  acquaintance,  that  I now  interrupt,  for  a moment, 
4 the  flow  of  your  festivity.  Indeed,  it  is  not  necessary ; an 
Irishman  needs  no  requital  for  his  hospitality  ; its  generous  impulse 
is  the  instinct  of  his  nature,  and  the  very  consciousness  of  the  act 
carries  its  recompense  along  with  it.  But,  sir,  there  are  sensations 
excited  by  an  allusion  in  your  toast,  under  the  influence  of  which 
silence  would  be  impossible.  To  be  associated  with  Mr.  Payne 
must  be,  to  any  one  who  regards  private  virtues  and  personal  ac- 
complishments, a source  of  peculiar  pride  ; and  that  feeling  is  not  a 
little  enhanced  in  me  by  a recollection  of  the  country  to  which  we 
are  indebted  for  his  qualifications.  Indeed,  the  mention  of  America 
has  never  failed  to  fill  me  with  the  most  lively  emotions.  In  my 
earliest  infancy,  that  tender  season  when  impressions,  at  once  the 
most  permanent  and  the  most  powerful,  are  likely  to  be  excited,  the 
story  of  her  then  recent  struggle  raised  a throb  in  every  heart  that 
loved  liberty,  and  wrung  a reluctant  tribute  even  from  discomfited 
oppression.  I saw  her  spurning  alike  the  luxuries  that  would  ener- 
vate, and  the  legions  that  would  intimidate  ; dashing  from  her  lips 
the  poisoned  cup  of  European  servitude,  and,  through  all  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  her  protracted  conflict,  displaying  a magnanimity  that  defied 
misfortune,  and  a moderation  that  gave  new  grace  to  victory.  It 
was  the  first  vision  of  my  childhood  ; it  will  descend  with  me  to  the 
grave.  But  if  as  a man,  I venerate  the  mention  of  America,  what 


700 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


must  be  my  feelings  towards  her  as  an  Irishman.  Never,  oh  never, 
while  memory  remains,  can  Ireland  forget  the  home  of  her  emigrant 
and  the  asylum  of  her  exile.  No  matter  whether  their  sorrows 
sprung  from  the  errors  of  enthusiasm,  or  the  realities  of  suffering  — 
from  fancy  or  infliction ; that  must  be  reserved  for  the  scrutiny  of 
those  whom  the  lapse  of  time  shall  acquit  of  partiality.  It  is  for  the 
men  of  other  ages  to  investigate  and  record  it ; but  surely  it  is  for 
the  men  of  every  age  to  hail  the  hospitality  that  received  the  shel- 
terless, and  love  the  feeling  that  befriended  the  unfortunate.  Search 
creation  round,  where  can  you  find  a country  that  presents  so  sub- 
lime a view,  so  interesting  an  anticipation  ? What  noble  institutions  ! 
What  a comprehensive  policy  ! What  a wise  equalization  of  every 
political  advantage  ! The  oppressed  of  all  countries,  the  martyrs  of 
every  creed,  the  innocent  victim  of  despotic  arrogance  or  supersti- 
tious phrenzy,  may  there  find  refuge ; his  industry  encouraged,  his 
piety  respected,  his  ambition  animated  ; with  no  restraint  but  those 
laws  which  are  the  same  to  all,  and  no  distinction  but  that  which  his 
merit  may  originate.  Who  can  deny  that  the  existence  of  such  a 
country  presents  a subject  for  human  congratulation  ! Who  can 
deny  that  its  gigantic  advancement  offers  a field  for  the  must  rational 
conjecture  ! At  the  end  of  the  very  next  century,  if  she  proceeds 
as  she  seems  to  promise,  what  a wondrous  spectacle  may  she  not 
exhibit ! Who  shall  say  for  what  purpose  a mysterious  Providence 
may  not  have  designed  her  ! Who  shall  say  that  when  in  its  follies 
or  its  crimes,  the  old  world  may  have  interred  all  the  pride  of  its 
power,  and  all  the  pomp  of  its  civilization,  human  nature  may  not 
find  its  destined  renovation  in  the  new  ! For  mj'self,  I have  no 
doubt  of  it.  I have  not  the  least  doubt  that  when  our  temples  and 
our  trophies  shall  have  mouldered  into  dust ; when  the  glories  of 
our  name  shall  be  but  the  legend  of  tradition,  and  the  light  of  our 
achievements  only  live  in  song ; philosophy  will  rise  again  in  the 
sky  of  her  Franklin,  and  glory  rekindle  at  the  urn  of  her  Washing- 
ton. Is  this  the  vision  of  romantic  fancy ? Is  it  even  improbable? 
Is  it  half  so  improbable  as  the  events,  which,  for  the  last  twenty 
years  have  rolled  like  successive  tides  over  the  surface  of  the  Euro- 
pean world,  each  erasing  the  impressions  that  preceded  it?  Thou- 
sands upon  thousands,  sir,  I know  there  are,  who  will  consider  this 
supposition  as  wild  and  whimsical ; but  they  have  dwelt  with  little 


CHARLES  PHILLIPS. 


703 

the  contest,  and  his  country  called  him  to  the  command.  Liberty 
unsheathed  his  sword,  necessity  stained,  victory  returned  it.  If  he 
had  paused  here,  history  might  have  doubted  what  station  to  assign 
him,  whether  at  the  head  of  her  citizens  or  her  soldiers,  her  heroes, 
or  her  patriots.  But  the  last  glorious  act  crowns  his  career,  and  ban- 
ishes all  hesitation.  Who,  like  Washington,  after  having  emanci- 
pated a hemisphere,  resigned  its  crown,  and  preferred  the  retirement 
of  domestic  life  to  the  adoration  of  a land  he  might  be  almost  said 
to  have  created  ? 

“ How  shall  we  rank  thee  upon  glory’s  page, 

Thou  more  than  soldier,  and  just  less  than  sage; 

All  thou  hast  been  reflects  less  fame  on  thee, 

Par  less  than  all  thou  hast  forborne  to  be ! ” 

Such,  Sir,  is  the  testimony  of  one  not  to  be  accused  of  partiality 
in  his  estimate  of  America.  Happy,  proud  America  ! the  lightnings 
of  heaven  yielded  to  your  philosophy ! The  temptations  of  earth 
could  not  seduce  your  patriotism  ! 

I have  the  honor,  Sir,  of  proposing  to  you  as  a toast,  The  immortal 
MEMORY  OF  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 


704-  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


A Speech 

Delivered  at  an  Aggregate  Meeting  of  tiie  Roman  Catholics 
of  the  County  and  City  of  Dublin. 

IS^JpAVING  taken,  in  the  discussions  on  your  question,  suck  humble 
plllj  share  as  was  allotted  to  my  station  and  capacity,  I may  be 
Qxlif)  Perujitted  to  offer  my  ardent  congratulations  at  the  proud 
l,uinac^e  OD  which  it  this  day  reposes.  After  having  eom- 
“t-  bated  calumnies  the  most  atrocious,  sophistries  the  most 
plausible,  and  perils  the  most  appalling  that  slander  could  invent  or 
ingenuity  could  devise  or  power  array  against  you,  I at  length  behold 
the  assembled  rank  and  wealth  and  talent  of  the  Catholic  body  offer- 
ing to  the  legislature  that  appeal  which  cannot  be  rejected,  if  there 
be  a Power  in  heaven  to  redress  injury,  or  a spirit  on  earth  to  ad- 
minister justice.  No  matter  what  may  be  the  depreciations  of  faction 
or  of  bigotry  ; this  earth  never  presented  a more  ennobling  spectacle 
than  that  of  a Christian  country  suffering  for  her  religion  with  the 
patience  of  a martyr,  and  suing  for  her  liberties  with  the  expostula- 
tions of  a philosopher;  reclaiming  the  bad  by  her  piety;  refuting 
the  bigoted  by  her  practice ; wielding  the  Apostle’s  weapons  in  the 
patriot’s  causer,  and  at  length,  laden  with  chains  and  with  laurels, 
seeking  from  the  country  she  had  saved,  the  constitution  she  had 
shielded  ! Little  did  I imagine,  that  in  such  a state  of  your  cause,  we 
should  be  called  together  to  counteract  the  impediments  to  its  success, 
created  not  by  its  enemies,  but  by  those  supposed  to  be  its  friends. 
It  is  a melancholy  occasion ; but  melancholy  as  it  is,  it  must  be  met, 
and  met  with  the  fortitude  of  men  struggling  in  the  sacred  cause  of 
liberty.  I do  not  allude  to  the  proclamation  of  your  Board  ; of  that 
Board  I never  was  a member,  so  I can  speak  impartially.  It  con- 
tained much  talent,  some  learning,  many  virtues.  It  was  valuable 
on  that  account : but  it  was  doubly  valuable  as  being  a vehicle  for 


SPEECHES 

BY 

Right  Hon,  Edmund  Burke. 


[731  ] 


Speech  on  American  Taxation, 


On  the  19th  April,  1774,  Mr.  Hose  Fuller,  member  for  Rye,  proposed  in  the  House 
of  Commons  that  the  House  should  proceed  to  take  into  consideration  the  duty  o f 
3d.  per  lb.,  imposed  under  the  Act  of  1767,  on  tea  imported  into  America.  It  was 
on  this  occasion  that  Burke,  then  member  for  the  borough  of  Wendover,  delivered 
the  following  speech  — an  oration  which  contains  some  of  the  most  splendid  pas- 
sages in  the  English  language.  It  was  marked  with  such  energy,  that  it  roused  the 
attention  of  the  House,  though  spoken  at  a very  late  period  in  the  debate.  It  is 
said  that  Lord  John  Townshend,  struck  by  the  remarkable  beauty  of  one  passage, 
cried  aloud,  “What  a man  is  this  ! how  could  he  acquire  such  transcendent  powers?” 
The  speech  was  published  under  the  orator’s  supervision,  in  compliance  with  the 
public  wish.  Few  literary  efforts  have  given  evidence  of  the  possession  of  so  much 
power  of  sarcasm,  as  the  description  of  the  coalition  ministry  of  Lord  Grafton. 
The  character  of  Lord  Chatham  is  most  exquisitely  portrayed.  For  elegance  of 
diction,  and  beauty  of  illustration,  it  has,  perhaps,  never  been  surpassed. 

ffiljpIR,  — I agree  with  the  honorable  gentleman  who  spoke  last,  that 
p!||  this  subject  is  not  new  in  this  house.  Very  disagreeably  to 
fJ?  this  house,  very  unfortunately  to  this  nation,  and  to  the  peace 
and  prosperity  of  this  whole  empire,  no  topic  has  been  more 
familiar  to  us.  For  nine  long  years,  session  after  session,  we  have 
been  lashed  round  and  round  this  miserable  circle  of  occasional 
arguments  and  temporary  expedients.  I am  sure  our  heads  must 
turn,  and  our  stomachs  nauseate  with  them.  We  have  had  them  in 
every  shape  ; we  have  looked  at  them  in  every  point  of  view.  In- 
vention is  exhausted ; reason  is  fatigued ; experience  has  given 
judgment ; but  obstinacy  is  not  yet  conquered. 

The  honorable  gentleman  has  made  one  endeavor  more  to  diver- 
sify the  form  of  this  disgusting  argument.  He  has  thrown  out  a 
speech  composed  almost  entirely  of  challenges.  Challenges  are 
serious  things  ; and  as  he  is  a man  of  prudence  as  well  as  resolution, 
I dare  say  he  has  very  well  weighed  those  challenges  before  he  de- 
livered them.  I had  long  the  happiness  to  sit  at  the  same  side  of 

f 723  * 


72^  TREASURY  01?  ELOQUENCE. 

the  house,  and  to  agree  with  the  honorable  gentleman  on  all  the 
Ameriean  questions.  My  sentiments,  I am  sure,  are  well  known  to 
him ; and  I thought  I had  been  perfectly  acquainted  with  his.  Though 
I find  myself  mistaken,  he  will  still  permit  me  to  use  the  privilege  of 
an  old  friendship,  he  will  permit  me  to  apply  myself  to  the  house 
under  the  sanction  of  his  authority  ; and,  on  the  various  grounds  he 
has  measured  out,  to  submit  to  you  the  poor  opinions  which  I have 
formed,  upon  a matter  of  importance  enough  to  demand  the  fullest 
consideration  I could  bestow  upon  it. 

He  has  stated  to  the  house  two  grounds  of  deliberation  ; one  nar- 
row and  simple,  and  merely  confined  to  the  question  on  your  paper : 
the  other  more  large  and  more  complicated  ; comprehending  the  whole 
series  of  the  parliamentary  proceedings  with  regard  to  America,  their 
causes,  and  their  consequences.  With  regard  to  the  latter  ground, 
he  states  it  as  useless,  and  thinks  it  maybe  even  dangerous,  to  enter 
into  so  extensive  a field  of  inquiry.  Yet,  to  my  surprise,  he  had 
hardly  laid  down  this  restrictive  proposition,  to  which  his  authority 
would  have  given  so  much  weight,  when  directly,  and  with  the  same 
authority,  he  condemns  it,  and  declares  it  absolutely  necessary  to 
enter  into  the  most  ample  historical  detail.  His  zeal  has  thrown  him 
a little  out  of  his  usual  accuracy.  In  this  perplexity  what  shall  we 
do,  Sir,  who  are  willing  to  submit  to  the  law  he  gives  us?  He  has 
reprobated  in  one  part  of  his  speech  the  rule  he  had  laid  down  for 
debate  in  the  other ; and,  after  narrowing  the  ground  for  all  those 
who  are  to  speak  after  him,  he  takes  an  excursion  himself,  as  un- 
bounded as  the  subject  and  the  extent  of  his  great  abilities. 

Sir,  when  I cannot  obey  all  his  laws,  I will  do  the  best  I can.  I 
will  endeavor  to  obey  such  of  them  as  have  the  sanction  of  his  ex- 
ample, and  to  stick  to  that  rule,  which,  though  not  inconsistent  with 
the  other,  is  the  most  rational.  He  was  certainly  in  the  right  when  he 
took  the  matter  largely.  I cannot  prevail  on  myself  to  agree  with 
him  in  his  censure  of  his  own  conduct.  It  is  not,  he  will  give  me  leave 
to  say,  either  useless  or  dangerous.  He  asserts,  that  retrospect  is 
not  wise  ; and  the  proper,  the  only  proper,  subject  of  inquiry  is,  not 
how  we  got  into  this  difficulty,  but  how  we  are  to  get  out  of  it.  In 
other  words,  we  are,  according  to  him,  to  consult  our  invention,  and 
to  reject  our  experience.  The  mode  of  deliberation  he  recommends 
is  diametrically  opposite  to  every  rule  of  reason,  and  every  principle  of 


EDMUND  BURKE. 


775 


Speech 


On  Taking  Leave  of  the  Electors  of  Bristol. 


Although  Burke  entered  on  his  canvass  of  the  Bristol  electors  in  September, 
1780,  with  the  support  of  the  Mayor  and  several  other  leading  citizens,  he  found  the 
tide  of  bigotry  and  prejudice  too  strong  against  him,  and  accordingly,  on  the  morn- 
ing on  which  the  polling  was  to  commence,  he  resigned.  On  this  occasion  he 
delivered  the  following  graceful  speech,  perhaps  the  best-tempered  any  unsuccessful 
canvasser  ever  spoke. 


&|||ENTLEMEN,  — I decline  the  election.  It  has  ever  been  my 
|g|  rule  through  life  to  observe  a proportion  between  my  efforts 
and  my  objects.  I have  never  been  remarkable  for  a bold, 


active  and  sanguine  pursuit  of  advantages  that  are  personal  to 
myself. 

I have  not  canvassed  the  whole  of  this  city  in  form.  But  I have 
taken  such  a view  of  it,  as  satisfies  my  own  mind,  that  your  choice 
will  not  ultimately  fall  upon  me.  Your  city,  gentleman,  is  in  a state 
of  miserable  distraction : and  I am  resolved  to  withdraw  whatever 
share  my  pretensions  may  have  had  in  its  unhappy  divisions.  I have 
not  been  in  haste ; I have  tried  all  prudent  means ; I have  waited  for 
the  effects  of  all  contingencies.  If  I were  fond  of  a contest,  by  the 
partiality  of  my  numerous  friends  (whom  you  know  to  be  among  the 
most  weighty  and  respectable  people  of  the  city)  I have  the  means 
of  a sharp  one  in  my  hands.  But  I thought  it  far  better,  with  my 
strength  unspent,  and  my  reputation  unimpaired,  to  do,  early  and 
from  foresight,  that  which  I might  be  obliged  to  do  from  necessity  at 
last. 


[Note.  — Burke  left  Bristol  immediately  and  proceeded  to  Malton  (where  he  had 
been  elected  in  1774),  for  which  borough  he  was  immediately  returned.  He  sat  for 
Malton  during  the  remainder  of  his  parliamentary  career.] 


776 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


I am  not  in  the  least  surprised,  nor  in  the  least  angry ‘at  this  view 
of  things.  I have  read  the  book  of  life  for  a long  time,  and  I have 
read  other  books  a little.  Nothing  has  happened  to  me,  but  what 
has  happened  to  men  much  better  than  I,  and  in  times  and  in  nations 
full  as  good  as  the  age  and  country  that  we  live  in.  To  say  that  I 
am  no  way  concerned,  would  be  neither  decent  nor  true.  The  repre- 
sentation of  Bristol  was  an  object  on  many  accounts  dear  to  me ; and 
I certainly  should  very  far  prefer  it  to  any  other  in  the  kingdom. 
My  habits  are  made  to  it ; and  it  is  in  general  more  unpleasant  to  be 
rejected  after  long  trial,  than  not  to  be  chosen  at  all. 

But,  gentlemen,  I will  see  nothing  except  your  former  kindness, 
and  I will  give  way  to  no  other  sentiments  than  those  of  gratitude. 
From  the  bottom  of  my  heart  I thank  you  for  what  you  have  done 
for  me.  You  have  given  me  a long  term,  which  is  now  expired.  I 
have  performed  the  conditions,  and  enjoyed  all  the  profits  to  the  full ; 
and  I now  surrender  your  estate  into  your  hands  without  being  in  a 
single  tile,  or  a single  stone,  impaired  or  wasted  by  my  use.  I have 
served  the  public  for  fifteen  years.  I have  served  you  in  particular 
for  six.  What  is  passed  is  well  stored.  It  is  safe  and  out  of  the 
power  of  fortune.  What  is  to  come,  is  in  wiser  hands  than  ours  ; 
and  He,  in  whose  hands  it  is,  best  knows  whether  it  is  best  for  you 
and  me,  that  I should  be  in  parliament  or  even  in  the  world. 

Gentlemen,  the  melancholy  event  of  yesterday  reads  to  us  an 
awful  lesson  against  being  too  much  troubled  about  any  of  the 
objects  of  ordinary  ambition.  The  worthy  gentleman,  Mr.  Coombe, 
the  candidate  who  has  died  suddenly,  and  who  has  been  snatched 
from  us  at  the  moment  of  the  election,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  con- 
test, whilst  his  desires  were  as  warm,  and  his  hopes  as  eager  as  ours, 
has  feelingly  told  us  what  shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we 
pursue. 

It  has  been  usual  for  a candidate  who  declines  to  take  his  leave  by 
a letter  to  the  sheriffs,  but  I received  your  trust  in  the  face  of  day ; 
and  in  the  face  of  day  I accept  your  dismission.  I am  not,  — I am 
not  at  all  ashamed  to  look  upon  you  ; nor  can  my  presence  discom- 
pose the  order  of  business  here.  I humbly  and  respectfully  take  my 
leave  of  the  sheriff’s,  the  candidates  and  the  electors ; wishing  heart- 
ily that  the  choice  may  be  for  the  best,  at  a time  which  calls,  if  ever 
time  did  call,  for  service  that  is  not  nominal.  It  is  no  plaything  you 


EDMUND  BURKE. 


777 


are  about.  I tremble  when  I consider  the  trust  I have  presumed  to 
ask.  I confided  perhaps  too  much  in  my  intentions.  They  were 
really  fair  and  upright ; and  I am  bold  to  say,  that  I ask  no  ill 
thing  for  you,  when  on  parting  from  this  place  I pray  that  whomso- 
ever you  choose  to  succeed  me,  he  may  resemble  me  exactly  in  all 
things,  except  in  my  abilities  to  serve,  and  my  fortune  to  please 
you. 


♦ 


TREASURE  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


778 


Select  Passages 

From  Burke’s  Speeches  on  the  Impeachment  of  Warren 

Hastings. 


Burke  spoke  three  times  during  the  trial  of  Hastings.  He  opened  the  impeach- 
ment in  February,  1788,  in  a speech  which  lasted  for  several  days,  containing  several 
passages  of  surpassing  power.  He  also  spoke  to  one  of  the  charges  in  1789,  and 
replied  to  the  defence  in  1794.  Our  limits  do  not  permit  us  to  give  to  the  reader 
these  orations,  but  we  cannot  refrain  from  presenting  to  his  notice  some  of  the  most 
striking  passages. 

The  following  passage  in  reply  to  Hastings’  statement,  that  to  govern  Hindostan 
properly  it  was  necessary  to  make  use  of  arbitrary  power,  is  very  fine. 


HASTINGS,  the  lieutenant  of  a British  monarch,  claiming  abso- 
lute dominion  ! From  whom,  in  the  name  of  all  that  was 
strange,  could  he  derive,  or  how  had  he  the  audacity  to 
claim,  such  authority?  He  could  not  have  derived  it  from 
the  East  India  Company,  for  they  had  it  not  to  confer.  He  could 
not  have  received  it  from  his  sovereign,  for  the  sovereign  had  it  not 
to  bestow.  It  could  not  have  been  given  by  either  house  of  parlia- 
ment, for  it  was  unknown  to  the  British  constitution  ! Yet  Mr. 
Hastings,  acting  under  the  assumption  of  this  power,  had  avowed 
his  rejection  of  British  acts  of  parliament,  had  gloried  in  the  success 
which  he  pretended  to  derive  from  their  violation,  and  had  on  every 
occasion  attempted  to  justify  the  exercise  of  arbitrary  power  in  its 
greatest  extent.  Having  thus  avowedly  acted  in  opposition  to  the 
law’s  of  Great  Britain,  he  sought  a shield  in  vain,  in  other  law's  and 
other  usages.  Would  he  appeal  to  the  Mahomedan  law  for  his  jus- 
tification ? In  the  whole  Koran  there  was  not  a single  text  w'hich 
could  justify  the  power  he  had  assumed.  Would  he  appeal  to  the 
Gentoo  code  ? Vain  there  the  effort  also  ; a system  of  stricter  justice, 
or  more  pure  morality,  did  not  exist.  It  was,  therefore,  equal  whether 
he  fled  for  shelter  to  a British  court  of  justice  or  a Gentoo  pagoda ; 


LETTERS 


His  Grace  the  Most  Rev,  Dr,  McHale, 

ARCHBISHOP  OF  TUAM. 


[789] 


\. 


■ 


To  the  Most  Rev,  Dr,  Manners, 

Protestant  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  Primate  of  all  England. 


The  Question  of  the  Divorce  between  George  IV.  and  his 

Queen. 

Maynooth  College,  Dec.  2,  1820. 
Faicunda  culpce  secula,  nuptias 
Primum  inquinavere,  et  genus,  et  domus. 

Hoc  fonte  derivata  clades 
In  patriam  populumque  fluxit.  — Horace. 


Fruitful  of  crimes,  this  age  first  stained 
Their  hapless  offspring,  and  profaned 
The  nuptial  bed ; from  whence  the  woes, 

Which  various  and  unnumbered  rose ; 

From  this  polluted  fountain  head 

O’er  Rome,  and  o’er  the  nation  spread.  — Francis. 


LORD  During  the  late  portentous  proceedings  which 
have  awed  public  curiosity,  your  Grace  and  episcopal  col- 
leagues stood  out  in  too  prominent  an  attitude,  not  to 
attract  and  fix  observation.  As  the  question  of  divorce 
embraced  much  of  ecclesiastical  polity,  it  was  naturally  expected 
that  the  faithful  would  be  enlightened  by  the  wisdom  and  confirmed 
by  the  accordance  of  the  hierarchy.  But,  alas  ! these  anticipations 
have  been  sadly  frustrated,  and  the  surprise  and  disedification  that 
were  feebly  murmured  among  the  Lords  have  been  long  since  loudly 
re-echoed  through  the  empire.*  It  has  been  a subject  of  regret  to 
some,  of  triumph  to  others,  and  of  wonder  to  all,  to  see  the  heads 
of  a religion  which  hinges  on  the  principle  of  the  universal  intel- 

* Witness  among  others  the  speech  of  my  Lord  King,  who  sported  a good  deal  of 
mirth  and  raillery  at  the  expense  of  the  premier,  until  his  seriousness  was  restored 
by  the  shock  which  his  faith  had  sustained  in  the  collision  of  the  prelacy. 

(791) 


702 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


ligibility  of  the  Scripture,  arrayed  in  adverse  ranks  on  a momentous 
question,  involving  in  its  general  tendency  the  best  interests  of  man- 
kind, and  in  this  particular  instance,  the  safety  and  the  honor  of  the 
empire ; disputing  every  inch  of  ground  with  Scripture  authority, 
and  thereby  demonstrating  to  the  world  the  obscurity  of  the  sacred 
volume.  For  I will  not — I cannot,  my  lord,  suppose  that  any  un- 
worthy bias  or  flexibility  to  power  could  warp  the  judgment  of  meu 
of  such  exalted  station  and  sanctity.  And  hence,  one  cannot  Suffi- 
ciently express  his  indignation  against  those  rash  advocates  of  the 
Bible,  who  cannot  defend  its  perspicuity  without  impeaching  the 
integrity  of  its  expounders.  Hitherto,  whatever  might  be  the 
opinion  of  the  prelates,  they  uniformly  affected  the  language  of 
orthodoxy  and  concord,  and  like  the  ancient  philosophers,  though 
they  might  inwardly  disbelieve,  they  exteriorly  reverenced  the  doc- 
trines of  the  Church.  But  on  this  occasion  they  scandalized  the 
faithful,  and  edified  the  sectary,  by  sincerely  revealing  the  mys- 
teries of  their  own  disunion. 

I have  heard,  my  lord,  of  the  distinction  of  essentials,  by  which 
the  lovers  of  subtlety,  more  than  of  truth,  have  thought  to  elude 
the  arguments  of  their  adversaries.  It  will  not,  doubtless,  be  re- 
curred to  on  this  occasion,  nor  will  it  be  deemed  presumption  to 
assert,  that  there  is  nothing  essential  in  Scripture,  if  the  doctrine 
of  marriage  does  not  form  an  essential  point  of  Christian  morality. 
It  is  not  a speculative  article,  on  which  one  could  be  supposed  to 
err  without  danger,  and  propagate  his  errors,  without  affecting  the 
public  repose.  It  is  a duty  of  every  day’s  occurrence,  connected 
with  the  happiness  of  almost  every  individual ; nor  have  the  min- 
isters of  the  establishment  themselves  aspired  to  such  unearthly 
sanctity,  as  to  be  exempt  from  its  obligations.  It  is,  therefore,  of 
vast  importance  to  know  whether  the  marriage  contract  lasts  for 
life,  or  only  during  the  discretion  of  the  parties ; and  whether  we 
are  to  believe,  wdth  his  lordship  of  Chester,  that  its  ties  are  indis- 
soluble, or,  with  your  Grace  of  Canterbury,  that  adultery  annuls  its 
engagements. 

On  reading  the  report  of  your  Grace’s  speech,  I was  not  a little 
surprised  to  find  a minister  of  Christ  principally  resting  on  the 
obsolete  laws  of  Moses.  However,  it  may  appear  consistent 
enough,  that  they  who  have  abjured  the  living  authority  of  the 


REV.  DR.  McHALE. 


805 


intended  to  be  made  the  instrument  of  every  blasphemer,  who  would 
fain  conceal  his  extravagance  and  impiety  under  the  mask  of  respect 
for  religion.  The  indecent  levity  with  which  the  awful  concerns  of 
religion  are  often  treated  by  polemics,  and  the  flippancy  with  which 
they  abuse  the  Scripture,  would  almost  make  one  think  that  the 
Scriptures  were  written  for  the  vain  and  irreligious  as  a matter  of 
idle  disputation.  But  the  Scriptures  are  too  sacred  for  familiarity  ; 
nor  ought  the  mysteries  of  heaven  be  profanely  agitated  between 
the  vain  contentions  of  men.  Placed  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  Catho- 
lic Church,  the  Scripture  is  the  monument  of  God’s  covenant  with 
his  people  ; it  affords  a proof  of  his  presence,  and  a pledge  of 
his  protection.  But  when  it  is  dragged  out  of  that  sanctuary  by 
the  impiety  of  the  sectaries,  and  sacrilegiously  carried  out  to  battle, 
it  becomes  like  the  same  ark  of  the  covenant  in  the  hands  of  the 
hypocritical  sons  of  Heli : it  provokes  the  vengeance  of  heaven  — 
it  becomes  the  signal  of  their  shame  — and  the  instrument  of  their 
discomfiture.  * 

Hierophilos. 

* And  the  ark  of  God  was  taken ; and  the  two  sons  of  Heli,  Ophni  and  Phinees, 
were  slain.  — I.  Kings,  iv.  1L 


806 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Dr,  McHale’s  Letter  to  Lord  Bexley, 


Ballina,  November,  1828 

LORD  — These  are  strange  times  ; nor  is  it  the  least  strange 
the  features  which  characterize  them  to  see  with  what 
recklessness  of  their  dignity  the  peers  of  the  realm  are  rush- 
vi'  ing  into  print,  and  becoming  ambitious  candidates  of  ridicule. 
Heretofore  they  seemed  to  have  adopted  the  Persian  maxim  of  in- 
vesting themselves  with  reverence,  by  keeping  aloof  from  the  ranks 
of  the  people.  If  they  were  not  great  men,  the  secret  of  their  little- 
ness was  only  known  to  their  valet  de  chambre;  nor  did  they  rashly  ex- 
hibit themselves  abroad,  if  they  did  not  possess  those  hardy  qualities 
which  are  proof  against  public  collisions.  Rely  on  it,  my  lord,  the 
people  take  delight  in  those  exhibitions  of  aristocratic  intellect,  as 
it  gives  them  an  opportunity  of  measuring  the  relative  distance  be- 
tween it  and  their  own.  "The  Morning  Chronicle,”  which  conveyed 
to  me  Lord  Bexley’s  letter,  contained  another  of  William  Cobbett’s  on 
the  opposite  side,  and  surely  no  reader  has  failed  to  remark  how  the 
puny  production  of  the  peer  shrinks  before  the  strong  and  simple 
energy  of  the  man  of  the  people.  With  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  and 
Lord  Kenyon,  your  lordship  fills  up  the  triumvirate  of  literature. 
Lords  Farnham,  and  Lorton,  and  Winchilsea,  are  doubtless  panting 
for  the  honor  of  digesting  in  plates  of  brass,  the  laws  of  the  Consti- 
tution. Lords  Wicklow  and  Roden  must  contribute  their  share  to 
the  labor,  nor  shall  they  cease  to  associate  to  their  body  all  the  writ- 
ing peers  of  the  land,  until  they  complete  the  number  of  Decemvirs 
— a combination  equally  ominous  to  the  liberties  of  the  country. 

It  is  difficult  to  compress  within  appropriate  limits  the  refutation 
of  your  address,  since,  with  a lofty  disregard  of  all  the  unities  of 
time,  and  place,  and  persons,  your  lordship’s  excursive  fancy  ranged 
over  every  topic  that  could  minister  to  the  prejudices  of  the  public 
mind 


REV.  DR.  McHALE.  813 

tempts  on  the  religion  of  either.  The  Catholic  religion  can  be  made 
a useful  ally  to  the  state ; but  it  is  only  when  its  profession  is  un- 
shackled, and  its  ministers  are  beyond  the  reach  of  any  sinister 
political  control. 

I have  the  honor  to  be,  your  lordship’s  obedient  servant. 

►i*  John,  Bishop  or  Mabonia. 


814 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


To  the  Protestant  Archbishop  of  Tuam, 


B allin  a,  February  10,  1830. 


Jf|Y  LORD — It  appears  from  the  public  prints  that  your  Grace 
has  been  lately  exercising  your  pastoral  zeal,  in  writing 
to  your  clergy,  to  carry  on  a mission  among  the  Roman 
Catholics ; and  if  the  copy  of  the  circular  be  genuine,  it 
is  a production  that  evinces  no  ordinary  spirit.  It  was  fondly  im- 
agined that  a benevolent  legislature  had  succeeded  in  stilling  the 
angry  spirit  of  controversy  by  which  the  land  was  so  long  shaken, 
and  the  appearance  of  the  olive  branch  was  hailed  as  a presage  of 
mutual  conciliation.  But,  whilst  the  Government  brings  peace, 
your  Grace  seems  to  imagine  that  the  sword  is  a more  befitting 
badge  for  the  ministers  of  religion ; and  hence  you  seize  once 
more  your  theological  trumpet,  to  arouse  the  sentinels  of  Israel 
to  vigilance  and  war. 


At  any  time  the  letter  to  which  I allude  would  be  considered  the 
production  of  a mind  under  the  most  potent  preternatural  influences. 
At  present,  and  with  all  the  difficulties  that  stare  the  Establishment 
in  the  face,  it  exhibits  the  calmest  indifference  to  all  earthly  consid- 
eration. There  is  no  alloy  of  worldly  prudence  about  your  zeal ; no 
cold  calculations  of  the  dangers  to  which  the  Church  is  exposed  can 
chill  the  ardor  of  your  charity.  No ; whilst  the  Establishment  is 
now  deliberately  weighed  in  the  balance,  and  the  other  prelates  are 
watching  the  legislature  with  trembling  anxiety  for  what  may  come 
to  pass  ; — whilst  Lord  Mountcashel,  with  a warning  voice,  is  turn- 
ing the  public  attention  to  the  decayed  state  of  the  walls,  and  wishes 
to  exchange  some  vain  and  gilded  decorations  for  Doric  pillars,  to 
sustain  the  tottering  edifice ; — whilst  Sir  John  Newport  is  giving 
notice  that  he  will  submit  this  important  subject  to  the  wisdom  of 
the  assembled  senate  of  the  empire  ; — whilst  the  pressure  of  tithes 
and  church-rates  is  the  theme  of  every  theorist,  of  whatever  creed, 


xvEV.  DR.  McHALE.  gj_rj, 

repose  on  cushions  and  their  devotions  may  be  warmed  by  the  com- 
foi table  effusions  of  a stove.  But,  my  lord,  the  parsons  will  not 
thus  expose  themselves  to  the  bitter  irony  of  a people  perhaps  more 
famed  than  any  other  for  an  exhaustless  strain  of  sarcastic  intelli- 
gence ; they  will  not,  for  their  own  sakes,  be  marked  exceptions  to 
the  good  sense  that  is  pervading  all  classes  of  society.  There  is  now 
no  further  controversy  about  the  purity  of  the  Protestant  Church  ; it 
is  all  turning  on  the  permanence  of  its  temporalities.  All  are  now 
agreed  that  the  Establishment  is  a political  machine  originally  framed 
by  political  artificers,  since  kept  together  foi’  political  motives,  and 
which,  like  every  other  machine,  as  soon  as  the  expense  of  keeping 
it  in  repaii  shall  ovemalance  its  benefits,  must  be  abandoned  to  a 
quiet  and  natural  decay. 

On  this  topic  there  is  no  room  for  further  disputation,  now  that  a 
controversy  altogether  of  a different  kind  has  started  up  in  the  coun- 
try ; which  is  the  most  effectual  method  of  promoting  the  prosperity 
of  Ireland,  and  of  uniting  more  closely  all  classes  of  the  long-dis- 
tracted people.  Who  shall  be  foremost  in  exploring  its  resources? 
in  giving  vigor  to  its  trade  i in  opening  new  avenues  of  industry, 
and  consigning  to  merited  contempt  all  the  leaden  lore  of  malignant 
bigotiy  by  which  the  minds  of  the  people  were  so  long  poisoned? 
Yes  ; the  apostles  of  discord  must  at  length  retire.  There  is  now  a 
rivalry  of  benevolence— an  emulation  in  laboring  for  the  public  good 
—a  contention  for  advancing  a nation’s  happiness,  which  all  the  arts 
of  narrow-minded  individuals  will  not  be  able  to  suspend.  There  is, 
in  short,  a great  anxiety  to  bury,  by  recent  acts  of  kindness,  the 
memoiy  of  ancient  strife  ; and  a flow  of  mutual  good  feeling,  silently 
working  through  the  country,  which  all  the  odium  tlieologicum 
poured  forth  from  your  Grace’s  episcopal  vial  shall  not  be  able  to 
embitter. 

I am  your  Grace’s  obedient  servant, 

•i4  John,  Bishop  of  Maronia. 


818  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Christmas  Day  at  the  Vatican. 


Feast  of  St.  Stephen,  Rome,  1831. 


UNWILLING  to  interrupt  the  series  of  observations  suggested 
by  the  contemplation  of  the  seven  hills  of  the  ancient  city,  I 
have  not  as  yet  made  any  reference  to  the  Vatican.  Yet  no 
JL  part  of  Rome  possesses  stronger  claims  on  the  affections  of 
the  Christian.  It  was  not  one  of  the  seven  hills  on  which  the  city 
was  seated,  yet  it  is  the  object  which  generally  challenges  the  first 
visit  from  the  piety  of  the  pilgrim  or  the  curiosity  of  the  mere  trav- 
eller. I was  scarcely  an  hour  arrived,  when  I hastened  to  Saint 
Peter’s,  to  offer  up  my  cold  and  imperfect  prayers  in  unison  with  the 
incense  of  prayer  and  sacrifice  that  is  daily  ascending  from  that 
magnificent  and  holy  temple,  to  the  throne  of  the  Almighty.  Its 
precincts  were  worthy  of  the  majesty  of  the  temple.  The  obelisk  in 
front  proclaimed  the  homage  of  the  conquered  arts  and  wealth  of 
Paganism  to  the  spirit  of  Catholicity  ; its  refreshing  fountains,  con- 
tinually playing  in  the  sunbeams,  were  an  emblem  of  its  pure  and 
perennial  'doctrine  flowing  from  the  shrine  of  the  apostles  ; and  its 
curved  colonnades,  stretching  out  on  either  side,  most  significantly 
represented  the  ardent  and  affectionate  eagerness  with  which  the 
Catholic  Church  greets  her  children  and  cherishes  them  in  her  bosom. 
No  sooner  did  1 cross  the  threshold  of  the  church  than  I felt,  what 
others  are  said  to  feel,  the  illusion  of  its  folded  perspective.  As  I 
advanced,  it  appeared  to  be  gradually  unrolled,  adjusting  the  har- 
monious position  and  size  of  the  surrounding  objects,  until  I stood 
under  the  stupendous  dome,  of  which  I had  just  seen  the  original 
model  in  the  Pantheon : the  one  reposing  on  the  earth,  the  master- 
piece of  Pagan  temples,  and  the  other  resting  on  lofty  pillars,  pene- 
trating to  the  heavens  — the  wondrous  trophy  of  the  Christian  artist 
by  whose  skill  and  energy  it  was  raised. 


REV.  DR.  McHALE. 


823 


guages,  inviting  Greek  and  Hebrew,  you  are  struck  with  the  hidden 
and  mysterious  immensity  of  the  place  — an  emblem  of  Him  to  whom 
it  is  dedicated  — and  forced  silently  to  exclaim  that  this  is  no  " other 
but  the  ftouse  of  God,”  into  which  " the  nations  should  be  continually 
flowing  from  the  four  winds  of  heaven.” 

& 


*i«  John,  Bishop  of  Mabonia. 


824 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


Letter  from  Rome, 


Mr  Visit  to  the  Pope. — A Manuscript  Letter  of  Mary  Queen 
of  Scots.  — The  Tombs  of  O’Neil  and  O’Donnell,  etc. 


ftjjyJHE  first  of  my  visits  to  manifest  the  homage  of  my  dutiful  rever- 
rJL_j  ence  to  the  Holy  Father,  was  a few  days  after  my  arrival. 


It  was  to  a Catholic  bishop  from  Ireland  a visit  fraught  with 


consolation.  Notwithstanding  all  the  efforts,  which  an  impi- 
ous policy  had  recourse  to,  to  sever  our  connexion  with  the  chair  of 
Peter,  efforts  far  more  ingenious  in  their  cruelty  than  those  of  the 
earlier  persecutions  that  hunted  the  Christians  into  the  catacombs,  it 
was  a gladsome  inti'oduction  to  be  presented  to  the  good  Father  of 
the  Faithful,  and  to  receive  at  his  feet  the  Apostolical  benediction. 
He  is  worthy  of  the  elevation  to  which  he  has  been  raised.  Benevo- 
lence ! — it  is  too  weak  a word ; — affectionate  charity  beams  in 
every  feature  of  the  good  Pontiff,  nor  is  there  wanting  that  visible 
indication  of  a stern  and  unbending  intrepidity*  of  character,  which 
will  not  fail,  whenever  it  may  be  necessary,  to  vindicate  the  dearest 
interests  of  religion. 

The  interval  between  Christmas  and  Easter  was  occupied  in  visit- 
ing the  most  conspicuous  churches,  galleries,  colleges,  and  libraries 
of  Rome,  together  with  occasional  excursions  to  the  remarkable 
places  in  the  vicinity,  which  history  and  fable  have  so  much  asso- 
ciated with  the  early  fortunes  of  Rome.  On  the  feast  of  the 
Epiphany,  it  was  a rare  and  interesting  spectacle  to  see  priests 
from  the  different  Eastern  Churches,  Armenians,  Greeks,  and  Mar- 
onites,  celebrating  mass  in  their  own  peculiar  rites,  and  in  their  own 

* His  fortitude  in  supporting  the  illustrious  Archbishop  of  Cologne  against  tha 
persecuting  policy  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  as  well  as  his  Apostolical  rebuke  of  tha 
atrocious  tyranny  of  the  Russian  autocrat,  justify  this  view  of  his  character 


Rome,  March  27,  1832. 


Address  in  His  Own  Defence. 

BY 

A,  M.  Sullivan,  M.  P, 


[8313 


Address 

Delivered  b r A.  M.  Sullivan,  M.  P.,  in  His  Own  Defence, 
in  Green  Street  Court  House,  Dublin,  Feb.  20,  1868. 

Lords  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Jury,  — I rise  to  address 
you  under  circumstances  of  embarrassment  which  will,  I 
hope,  secure  for  me  a little  consideration  and  indulgence  at 
your  hands.  I have  to  ask  you  at  the  outset  to  banish  any  prejudice 
that  might  arise  in  your  minds  against  a man  who  adopts  the  singular 
course — who  undertakes  the  serious  responsibility — of  pleading  his 
own  defence.  Such  a proceeding  might  be  thought  to  be  dictated 
either  by  disparagement  of  the  ordinary  legal  advocacy,  by  some 
poor  idea  of  personal  vanity,  or  by  way  of  reflection  on  the  tribunal 
before  which  the  defence  is  made.  My  conduct  is  dictated  by  neither 
of  these  considerations  or  influences.  Last  of  all  men  living  should 
I reflect  upon  the  ability,  zeal,  and  fidelity  of  the  Bar  of  Ireland, 
represented  as  it  has  been  in  my  own  behalf,  within  the  past  two 
days,  by  a man  whose  heart  and  genius  are,  thank  God,  still  left  to 
the  service  of  our  country,  and  represented,  too,  as  it  has  been  here 
this  day  by  that  gifted  young  advocate,  the  echoes  of  whose  elo- 
quence still  resound  in  this  court,  and  place  me  at  disadvantage  in 
immediately  following  him.  And,  assuredly,  I design  no  disrespect 
to  this  court ; either  to  tribunal  in  the  abstract  or  to  the  individual 
judges  who  preside,  from  one  of  whom  I heard  two  days  ago,  deliv- 
ered in  my  own  case,  a charge  of  which  I shall  say — though  followed 
by  a verdict  which  already  consigns  me  to  prison — that  it  was,  judg- 
ing it  as  a whole,  the  fairest,  the  clearest,  the  most  just  and  impar- 
tial ever  given,  to  my  knowledge,  in  a political  case  of  this  kind  in 
Ireland  between  the  subject  and  the  Crown.  No ; I stand  here  in 
ray  own  defence  to-day,  because  long  since  I formed  the  opinion 

<8M) 


834  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

that  on  many  grounds,  in  such  a prosecution  as  this,  such  a course 
would  be  the  most  fair  and  most  consistent  for  a man  like  me.  That 
resolution  I was,  for  the  sake  of  others,  induced  to  depart  from  on 
Saturday  last,  in  the  first  prosecution  against  me.  When  it  came  to 
be  seen  that  I was  the  first  to  be  tried  out  of  two  journalists  prose- 
cuted, it  was  strongly  urged  on  me  that  my  course  and  the  result  of 
my  trial  might  largely  affect  the  case  of  the  other  journalists  to  be 
tried  after  me  ; and  that  I ought  to  waive  my  individual  views  and 
feelings,  and  have  the  utmost  legal  ability  brought  to  bear  in  behalf 
of  the  case  of  the  national  press  at  the  first  point  of  conflict.  I did 
so.  I was  defended  by  a bar  not  to  be  surpassed  in  the  kingdom  for 
ability  and  earnest  zeal ; yet  the  result  was  what  I anticipated.  For 
I knew,  as  I had  held  all  along,  that  in  a case  like  this,  where  law 
and  fact  are  left  to  the  jury,  legal  ability  is  of  no  avail  if  the  Crown 
comes  in  with  its  arbitrary  power  of  moulding  the  jury.  In  that  case, 
as  in  this  one,  I openly,  publicly,  and  distinctly  announced  that  I for 
my  part  would  challenge  no  one,  whether  with  cause  or  without  cause. 
Yet  the  Crown,  in  the  face  of  this  fact,  and  in  a case  where  they  knew 
that,  at  least,  the  accused  had  no  like  power  of  peremptory  chal- 
lenge, did  not  venture  to  meet  me  on  equal  footing ; did  not  venture 
to  abstain  from  their  practice  of  absolute  challenge ; in  fine,  did  not 
dare  to  trust  their  case  to  twelve  men  "indifferently  chosen,”  as  the 
constitution  supposes  a jury  to  be.  Now,  gentlemen,  before  I enter 
further  upon  this  jury  question,  let  me  say  that  with  me  this  is  no 
complaint  merely  against  "the  Tories.”  On  this,  as  well  as  on  nu- 
merous other  subjects,  it  is  well  known  that  it  has  been  my  unfortu- 
nate lot  to  arraign  both  Whigs  and  Tories.  I say  further,  that  I 
care  not  a jot  whether  the  twelve  men  selected  or  permitted  by  the 
Crown  to  try  me,  or  rather  to  convict  me,  be  twelve  of  my  own  co- 
religionists and  political  compatriots,  or  twelve  Protestants,  Con- 
servatives, Tories  or  " Orangemen.”  Understand  me  clearly  on  this. 
My  objection  is  not  to  the  individuals  comprising  the  jury.  You  may 
be  all  Catholics,  or  you  maybe  all  Protestants,  for  aught  that  affects 
my  protest,  which  is  against  the  mode  by  which  you  are  selected — 
selected  by  the  Crown — their  choice  for  their  own  ends — and  not 
" indifferently  chosen  ” between  the  Crown  and  the  accused.  You 
may  disappoint  or  you  may  justify  the  calculations  of  the  Crown 
official  who  has  picked  you  out  from  the  panel,  by  negative  or  posi- 


SPEECH. 

BY 


Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan. 


Speech 


In  the  House  of  Commons,  in  Opposition  to  Pitt’s  First 

Income  Tax. 


WISE  man,  sir,  it  is  said,  should  doubt  of  everything.  It 
was  this  maxim,  probably,  that  dictated  the  amiable  diffi- 
S|gC  dence  of  the  learned  gentleman,*  who  addressed  himself  to 

'■f'  the  chair  in  these  remarkable  words  : "I  rise,  Mr.  Speaker, 
if  I have  risen.”  Now,  to  remove  all  doubts,  I can  assure  the 
learned  gentleman f that  he  actually  did  rise  ; and  not  only  rose,  but 
pronounced  an  able,  long,  and  elaborate  discourse,  a considerable 
portion  of  which  was  employed  in  an  erudite  dissertation  on  the 
histories  of  Rome  and  Carthage.  He  further  informed  the  House, 
upon  the  authority  of  Scipio,  that  we  could  never  conquer  the 
enemy  until  we  were  first  conquered  ourselves.  It  was  when  Han- 
nibal was  at  the  gates  of  Rome,  that  Scipio  had  thought  the  proper 
moment  for  the  invasion  of  Carthage,  — what  a pity  it  is  that  the 
learned  gentleman  does  not  go  with  this  consolation  and  the 
authority  of  Scipio  to  the  lord  mayor  and  aldermen  of  the  city  of 
London!  Let  him  say,  "Rejoice,  my  friends!  Bonaparte  is 
encamped  at  Blackheath  ! What  happy  tidings  ! ” For  here  Scipio 
tells  us,  you  may  every  moment  expect  to  hear  of  Lord  Hawkes- 
bury  making  his  triumphal  entry  into  Paris.  J It  would  be  whim- 
sical to  observe  how  they  would  receive  such  joyful  news.  I should 
like  to  see  such  faces  as  they  would  make  on  that  occasion.  Though 

* Dr.  Lawrence. 

f Mr.  Perceval,  afterwards  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  and,  in  1809,  Prime 
Minister.  He  was  assassinated  in  the  lobby  of  the  House  of  Commons,  May  11, 
1812,  by  a man  named  Bellingham. 

J Alludes  to  a boast  of  his  lordship,  at  an  early  period  of  the  war  against  France. 


( 859  ) 


8G0  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

I doubt  not  of  the  erudition  of  the  learned  gentleman,  he  seems  to 
me  to  have  somehow  confounded  the  stories  of  Hanno  and  Hanni- 
bal, of  Scipio  and  the  Romans.  He  told  us  that  Carthage  was  lost 
by  the  parsimony  or  envy  of  Ilanno,  in  preventing  the  necessary 
supplies  for  the  war  being  sent  to  Hannibal ; but  he  neglected  to  go 
a little  further,  and  to  relate  that  Hanno  accused  the  latter  of  having 
been  ambitious  — 

“ Juvenum  furentem  cupidine  regni ; ” 

and  assured  the  senate  that  Hannibal,  though  at  the  gates  of  Rome, 
was  no  less  dangerous  to  Ilanno.  Be  this,  however,  as  it  may,  is 
there  any  Hanno  in  the  British  senate?  If  there  is,  nothing  can  be 
more  certain  than  that  all  the  efforts  and  remonstrances  of  the 
British  Hanno  could  not  prevent  a single  man,  or  a single  guinea, 
being  sent  for  the  supply  of  any  Hannibal  our  ministers  might 
choose.  The  learned  gentleman  added,  after  the  defeat  of  Hanni- 
bal, Hanno  laughed  at  the  senate  ; but  he  did  not  tell  us  what  he 
laughed  at.  The  advice  of  Hannibal  has  all  the  appearance  of  being 
a good  one  : — 

“ Carthaginis  moenia  Romae  munerata.” 

If  they  did  not  follow  his  advice,  they  had  themselves  to  blame 
for  it. 

From  the  strain  of  declamation  in  which  the  learned  gentleman 
launched  out,  it  seems  as  if  he  came  to  this  House  as  executor  to  a 
man  whose  genius  was  scarcely  equalled  by  the  eccentricities  he 
sometimes  indulged.  He  appears  to  come  as  executor,  and  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  to  administer  to  Mr.  Burke’s  fury  without  any 
of  his  fire.  It  is,  however,  in  vain  for  him  to  attempt  any  imitation 
of  those  declamatory  harangues  and  writings  of  the  transcendent 
author,  which,  towards  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  were,  as  I think, 
unfortunately  too  much  applauded.  When  not  embellished  with 
those  ornaments  which  Mr.  Burke  was  so  capable  of  adding  to  all 
he  either  spoke  or  wrote,  the  subject  of  such  declamations  could 
only  claim  the  admiration  of  a school-boy.  The  circumstance  ot  a 
great,  extensive  and  victorious  republic,  breathing  nothing  but  war 
m the  long  exercise  of  its  most  successful  operations,  surrounded 
with  triumphs,  and  panting  for  fresh  laurels,  to  be  compared,  much 


Powerful  Address  of  Robert  Emmet, 


Delivered  at  his  Trial  before  Lord  Norbury,  Sept.  19,  1803. 


Lords — I am  asked  what  have  I to  say  why  sentence  of 
^ v ^ death  should  not  be  pronounced  on  me,  according  to  law. 

I have  nothing  to  say  that  can  alter  your  predetermination, 
T nor  that  it  will  become  me  to  say,  with  any  view  to  the 
mitigation  of  that  sentence  which  you  are  to  pronounce,  and  I must 
abide  by.  But  I have  that  to  say  which  interests  me  more  than  life, 
and  which  you  have  labored  to  destroy.  I have  much  to  say  why 
my  reputation  should  be  rescued  from  the  load  of  false  accusation 
and  calumny  which  has  been  cast  upon  it.  I do  not  imagine  that, 
seated  where  you  are,  your  mind  can  be  so  free  from  prejudice  as  to 
receive  the  least  impression  from  what  I am  going  to  utter.  I have 
no  hopes  that  I can  anchor  my  character  in  the  breast  of  a court 
constituted  and  trammelled  as  this  is.  I only  wish,  and  that  is  the 
utmost  that  I expect,  that  your  lordships  may  suffer  it  to  float  down 
your  memories  untainted  by  the  foul  breath  of  prejudice,  until  it 
finds  some  more  hospitable  harbor  to  shelter  it  from  the  storms  by 
which  it  is  buffeted.  Was  I only  to  suffer  death,  after  being  ad- 
judged guilty  by  your  tribunal,  I should  bow  in  silence,  and  meet 
the  fate  that  awaits  me  without  a murmur ; but  the  sentence  of  the 
law  which  delivers  my  body  to  the  executioner  will,  through  the 
ministry  of  the  law,  labor  in  its  own  vindication  to  consign  my  char- 
acter to  obloquy ; for  there  must  be  guilt  somewhere ; whether  in 
the  sentence  of  the  court,  or  in  the  catastrophe,  time  must  deter- 
mine. A man  in  my  situation  has  not  only  to  encounter  the  difficul- 
ties of  fortune,  and  the  force  of  power  over  minds  which  it  has 
corrupted  or  subjugated,  but  the  difficulties  of  established  prejudice. 


870  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

The  man  dies,  but  his  memory  lives.  That  mine  may  not  perish, 
that  it  may  live  in  the  respect  of  my  countrymen,  I seize  upon  this 
opportunity  to  vindicate  myself  from  some  of  the  charges  alleged 
against  me.  When  my  spirit  shall  be  wafted  to  a more  friendly  port 
— when  my  shade  shall  have  joined  the  bands  of  those  martyred  he- 
roes who  have  shed  their  blood  on  the  scaffold  and  in  the  field  in  the 
defence  of  their  country  and  of  virtue,  this  is  my  hope — I wish  that 
my  memory  and  my  name  may  animate  those  who  survive  me,  while 
I look  down  with  complacency  on  the  destruction  of  that  perfidious 
government  which  upholds  its  domination  by  blasphemy  of  the 
Most  High  — which  displays  its  power  over  man,  as  over  the  beasts 
of  the  forest  — which  sets  man  upon  his  brother,  and  lifts  his  hand, 
in  the  name  of  God,  against  the  throat  of  his  fellow  who  believes  or 
doubts  a little  more  or  a little  less  than  the  government  standard  — 
a government  which  is  steeled  to  barbarity  by  the  cries  of  the  or- 
phans and  the  tears  of  the  widows  it  has  made. 

Here  Lord  Norbury  interrupted  Mr.  Emmet,  saying,  “ that  the  mean  and  wicked 
enthusiasts  who  felt  as  he  did,  were  not  equal  to  the  accomplishment  of  their  wild 
designs.” 

I appeal  to  the  immaculate  God  — I swear  by  the  throne  of 
Heaven,  before  which  I must  shortly  appear  — by  the  blood  of  the 
murdered  patriots  who  have  gone  before  me  — that  my  conduct  has 
been,  through  all  this  peril,  and  through  all  my  purposes,  governed 
only  by  the  conviction  which  I have  uttered,  and  by  no  other  view 
than  that  of  the  emancipation  of  my  country  from  the  superinhuman 
oppression  under  which  she  has  so  long  and  too  patiently  travailed ; 
and  I confidently  hope  that,  wild  and  chimerical  as  it  may  appear, 
there  is  still  union  and  strength  in  Ireland  to  accomplish  this  noblest 
of  enterprises.  Of  this  I speak  with  confidence  of  intimate  knowl- 
edge, and  with  the  consolation  that  appertains  to  that  confidence. 
Think  not,  my  lords,  I say  this  for  the  petty  gratification  of  giving 
you  a transitory  uneasiness.  A man  who  never  yet  raised  his  voice 
to  assert  a lie,  will  not  hazard  his  character  with  posterity  by  assert- 
ing a falsehood  on  a subject  so  important  to  his  country,  and  on  an 
occasion  like  this.  Yes,  my  lords,  a man  who  does  not  wish  to  have 
his  epitaph  written  until  his  country  is  liberated,  will  not  leave  a 
weapon  in  the  power  of  envy,  or  a pretence  to  impeach  the  probity 


ThUAouJi  /9ax&~ 


ADDRESS. 

BY 

Michael  Davitt. 


£ 877  7 


Future  Policy  of  Irish  Nationalists, 


The  following  masterly  address  on  the  “ Future  Policy  of  Irish  Nationalists,” 
which  he  delivered  in  Mechanic’s  Hall,  Boston,  on  December  8,  1878,  before  his 
departure  for  Ireland,  being  his  first  great  effort  in  oratory,  and  a clear  exposition 
of  the  reasons  for  unity  of  action  amongst  all  classes  of  Irishmen,  we  give  in 
full:  — 

would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a position  more  unenviable  than 
plj  that  in  which  an  Irish  Nationalist  places  himself  when  he 
^ attempts  to  review  the  past  of  his  party  in  order  to  point  out 
1 what  he  believes  to  have  been  rash  or  impolitic  in  its  career. 
A criticism  of  the  wisdom  of  an  action  that  has  failed  or  a line  of 
conduct  which  has  been  injudicious,  is  at  once  construed  into  dis- 
loyalty to  the  principles  or  party  which  may  have  prompted  such 
action  by  a sincere  but  imprudent  resolve.  But  when  he  expresses 
himself  dfesatisfied  with  the  narrow  sphere  of  a policy  which  tends 
to  exclude  from  National  labor  every  one  but  a pronounced  Separa- 
tist, and  adds  his  belief  that  a change  of  tactics  would  turn  the 
exertions  of  sincere  Irishmen,  though  now  pronounced  Separatists, 
into  the  National  cause,  he  is  at  once  assumed  to  have  " forfeited  his 
principles,”  and  to  be  on  the  high  road  to  West-Britonism. 

In  consequence  of  this  proneness  of  the  Irish  mind  to  hasty  and 
uncharitable  deductions,  men  (who  thinlc  while  working  in  Ireland’s 
cause)  are  deterred  from  condemning  what  they  know  to  be  inju- 
dicious, lest  they  should  find  themselves  ostracized  from  its  ranks 
for  their  anxiety  to  see  it  directed  the  surest  way  to  success.  In 
my  humble  opinion,  a want  of  moral  courage  belittles  a man  far 
more  than  a deficiency  in  the  physical  article,  and  that  real  coward- 
ice consists  in  dreading  the  sentimental  consequences  of  an  upright, 
honest  action.  It  has  ever  been  the  practice  to  pander  to  the  popu- 
lar prejudices  of  our  country,  by  hyperbolical  eulogies  on  everything 

(879  ) 


880  TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 

Irish,  and  we  have  thus  become  the  spoiled  children  of  struggling 
nationalities,  and,  as  a necessary  consequence,  backward  in  our 
political  education  as  a people,  as  well  as  behind  the  progressive 
march  of  the  age.  Holding  these  opinions,  I will  endeavor  to-night 
to  show  you  how  we  ourselves  are  to  blame  for  past  failures,  and 
how  essential  it  is,  that  the  causes  which  led  to  such  failures  be 
guarded  against  in  the  future.  The  indestructibility  of  Irish  nation- 
ality is  no  more  its  distinguishing  characteristic,  than  is  its  past 
inapplicability  to  the  working  out  of  its  own  success,  or  the  winning 
of  an  advanced  social  and  political  position  for  the  people  who  pro- 
fess it.  We  can  boast  that  hundreds  of  years  of  the  worst  rule  that 
ever  cursed  a country  has  failed  to  crush  it ; but  can  we  say  that 
Ireland  is  to-day  in  a condition  commensurate  with  the  struggles 
and  sacrifices  of  her  sons  on  her  behalf  during  the  past  seven  cen- 
tuiies?  I think  not ; and  the  " why  and  wherefore  ” of  this  fact  is 
what  should  focus  upon  it  the  thought  and  studies  of  practical 
Nationalists  of  the  present.  That  there  has  been  an  unmethodical 
application  of  energies,  or  rather,  a reckless  waste  of  national 
strength  in  this  long  contest,  is  but  too  patent  from  a comparison 
between  the  position,  social  and  political,  of  our  country  to-day, 
and  that  of  other  peoples  who  have  struggled  successfully  against 
the  same  enemy.  The  very  strength  of  our  purpose  and  determina- 
tion of  our  resolves  were  the  means  which  invited  defeat.  We 
grasped  at  liberty  in  the  intoxication  of  sincerity,  and  blindly  dis- 
carded every  other  practical  consideration.  We  "resolved,”  and 
" swore,”  and  "determined”  to  avenge  Ireland’s  tvrongs!  but  took  no 
essential  method  to  win  her  liberty.  We  were  actuated  as  much 
by  revenge  as  by  patriotism,  and  received  the  penalty  which  follows 
the  obeying  of  a passion  instead  of  the  dictates  of  a virtue.  While 
recognizing  that  it  was  a war  of  races,  Saxon  against  Celtic,  we 
refused  to  shelter  ourselves  behind  the  ramparts  of  expediency  or 
employ  any  of  the  many  justifiable  means  by  which  a weak  people 
might  utilize  their  strength ; and  we  therefore  marched  into  the 
open  plain  inviting  destruction.  Instead  of  watching  our  enemy 
from  behind  the  Torres  Vedras  of  Ireland’s  imperishable  national 
principles,  and  determining  our  action  by  his  weakness  or  strength 
according  to  the  powers  arrayed  against  him,  we  left  our  position 
exposed  in  order  to  challenge  him  to  single  combat,  and  we  never 


GENL.  THOS.  F.  MEAG  HEK. 


SPEECH. 


Thomas  Francis  Meagher, 


[ 895  ] 


TREASURY  OF  ELOQUENCE. 


898 

as  the  costliest  legacy  a true  citizen  could  bequeath  to  the  land  that 
gave  him  birth. 

What  said  this  aged  orator? 

“ National  independence  does  not  necessarily  lead  to  national  virtue  and  happi- 
ness ; but  reason  and  experience  demonstrate  that  public  spirit  and  general  happi- 
ness are  looked  for  in  vain  under  the  withering  influence  of  provincial  subjection. 
The  very  consciousness  of  being  dependent  on  another  power  for  advancement  in 
the  scale  of  national  being,  weighs  down  the  spirit  of  a people,  manacles  the  efforts 
of  genius,  depresses  the  energies  of  virtue,  blunts  the  sense  of  common  glory  and 
common  good,  and  produces  an  insulated  selfishness  of  character,  the  surest  mark 
of  debasement  in  the  individual,  and  mortality  in  the  state.” 

My  lord,  it  was  once  said  by  an  eminent  citizen  of  Rome,  the 
elder  Pliny,  that  "we  owe  our  youth  and  manhood  to  our  country, 
but  our  declining  age  to  ourselves.”  This  may  have  been  the  maxim 
of  the  Roman — it  is  not  the  maxim  of  the  Irish  patriot.  One  might 
have  thought  that  the  anxieties,  the  labors,  the  vicissitudes  of  a 
long  career,  had  dimmed  the  fire  which  burned  in  the  heart  of  the 
illustrious  Roman  whose  words  I have  cited  ; but  now,  almost  from 
the  shadow  of  death,  he  comes  forth  with  the  vigor  of  youth,  and 
the  authority  of  age,  to  serve  the  country  in  the  defence  of  which 
he  once  bore  arms,  by  an  example,  my  lord,  that  must  shame  the 
coward,  rouse  the  sluggard,  and  stimulate  the  bold.  These  senti- 
ments have  sunk  deep  into  the  public  mind  ; they  are  recited  as  the 
national  creed.  Whilst  these  sentiments  inspire  the  people,  I have 
no  fear  for  the  national  cause.  I do  not  dread  the  venal  influence  of 
the  Whigs. 

Inspired  by  such  sentiments,  the  people  of  this  country  will  look 
beyond  the  mere  redress  of  existing  wrong,  and  strive  for  the 
attainment  of  future  power. 

A good  government  may,  indeed,  redress  the  grievances  of  an 
injured  people,  but  a strong  people  alone  can  build  up  a great 
nation.  To  be  strong,  a people  must  be  self-reliant,  self-ruled,  self- 
sustained.  The  dependence  of  one  people  upon  another,  even  for 
the  benefits  of  legislation,  is  the  deepest  source  of  national  weak- 
ness. By  an  unnatural  law  it  exempts  a people  from  their  just 
duties  — their  just  responsibilities.  When  you  exempt  a people 
from  these  duties,  from  these  responsibilities,  you  generate  in  them 
a distrust  in  their  own  powers.  Thus  you  enervate,  if  you  do  not 


( 


\ 


SPEECH 


Thomas  D'Arcy  McGee. 


[ 905  ] 


Speech 

Before  the  Irish  Protestant  Benevolent  Society-,  Quebeo, 

Mat,  1862. 

RECEIVED  some  time  ago  a warm  invitation  from  my  friend, 
Captain  Anderson,  the  secretary  of  this  society,  asking  me  to 
be  present  and  take  part  in  the  proceedings  of  this  evening. 
£ It  was  an  invitation  given  with  great  cordiality,  for  an  Irish 
society’s  benefit,  and  the  object  was  to  enable  the  society  to  assist 
the  friendless  emigrant  and  the  unfortunate  resident.  It  seems  to 
one  to  be  incident  to  our  state  of  society,  where  we  have  no  legal 
provision  for  the  poor,  no  organized  system  of  relief  of  any  public 
general  kind,  that  there  should  be  a division  of  charitable  labor 
among  our  different  voluntary  societies ; and  as  I look  upon  them 
all,  whether  under  the  auspices  of  Saint  Patrick  or  any  other  patron 
saint,  as  being  themselves  but  members  of  one  vast  society  — the 
society  of  Canada  — I did  not  feel  that  I could,  either  on  Irish  or 
on  Canadian  grounds,  decline  the  invitation.  It  is  very  true,  Mr. 
President,  that  you  and  I will  not  be  found  to-morrow  worshipping 
under  the  same  roof;  but  is  that  any  reason  why  we  should  not  be 
united  here  to-night  in  a common  work  of  charity  ? With  me  it  is 
no  reason  ; such  differences  exist  in  the  first  elements  of  our  popu- 
lation ; and  it  is  the  duty  of  every  man,  especially  of  every  man 
undergoing  the  education  of  a statesman,  to  endeavor  to  mitigate 
instead  of  inflaming  religious  animosities.  No  prejudices  lie  nearer 
the  surface  than  those  which  plead  the  sanction  of  religion ; any 
idiot  may  arouse  them,  to  the  wise  man’s  consternation,  and  the 
peaceful  man’s  deep  regret.  If,  in  times  past,  they  have  been  too 
often  and  too  easily  aroused,  we  must  all  deeply  deplore  it ; but  for 
the  future  — in  these  new  and  eventful  days,  when  it  is  so  essential 
that  there  shall  be  complete  harmony  within  our  ranks,  — let  us  all 
agree  to  brand  the  propagandist  of  bigotry  as  the  most  dangerous  ot 


BOSTON  COLLEGE 


3 9031  01254882  2 


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